


Reaper

by seibelsays



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Grim Reapers, Minor Character Death, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 43,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25509418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seibelsays/pseuds/seibelsays
Summary: After 700 years of collecting mundane souls and sending them on to their preferred afterlife, Darcy was a little bored. She wasn't interested in advancement or anything, she preferred to remain in her low-level (and therefore low-pressure) position. She was tired, that's all. She needed a break. It wasn't like she got vacation time.She was tired and she was curious and hewas thereand that's when the universe was its most dangerous.None of this was supposed to happen.
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, Jane Foster & Darcy Lewis
Comments: 573
Kudos: 513
Collections: BL favorites





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Back in 2018, I was re-reading the Lana Harvey Reapers Inc. series and I was suddenly struck with "but what if...." I've been working on this fic ever since and I am so excited to finally share it with you.

The world isn’t exactly what you might think it is.

Sure, the world is getting bigger every single day. What’s that line from _Men In Black_?

_Fifteen hundred years ago everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat, and fifteen minutes ago, you knew that humans were alone on this planet. Imagine what you’ll know tomorrow._

Kay wasn’t messing around, man. That is a truth bomb right there.

And these days Norse gods are falling from the sky and duking it out in tiny desert towns while mild-mannered scientists are turning into raging green monsters and knocking over Harlem. Legends thought long dead are waking up and even those that dwell in the shadows are looking over their shoulder. Everything people thought they knew is getting turned upside down on the regular.

But you still haven’t heard the strangest bits about the universe. Not yet. 

I would know - I’m one of them.

What do you think happens when you die? I don’t have to imagine - I already know. Not because I’m dead, you understand. That’s not really a thing that happens to people like me. Not really. Not the way you would understand it, anyway.

No, I know because I’m a reaper. One touch from me at the prescribed moment of your death and I send you on to your preferred afterlife. Whatever afterlife that might be.

That’s another secret I’ll let you in on. All the afterlives are real. If you can dream it, you can do it. In a manner of speaking.

It’s not up to me where you go. There’s a list, you see. I just follow the list. If you’re one of mine, I watch over you at the moment of your death and send you on your way.

You can’t see me. You never know that I’m there, until the end.

But I am.

I never aspired to anything more than being a low-level reaper. There are specialized reapers - ones who take the tough cases, the high profile cases, the cases that change things on a large scale. That’s not me. I prefer the mundane cases.

Sure, occasionally one of my humans will yell at me or pepper me with questions I can’t answer, but it’s not like we actually _talk_. It’s never bothered me, not really ever _knowing_ any of my assigned humans. Never having a conversation with them. 

Except for one. He was special.

But that’s exactly the problem. He was special and I was curious and -

Well. You’ll see.

My name is Darcy. I am a reaper.

And I have made an enormous mistake.


	2. Before: Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Psssst. See those tags up there? The ones for minor character death and canonical character death? Those tags are for this chapter.

### 

Before

_Brooklyn, New York. 11936 HE. (or 1936, by the common calendar of the day)_

Darcy let her legs swing as she perched on the edge of the roof and wondered what it would be like to be afraid to fall. Not what it would be like _to fall_ , but what it would be like to fear it. It was a curious idea. The rough brick making up the ledge scraped against her fingertips, practically hissing a dare. 

_Jump._

There was no point in that though. If Darcy pushed off from the ledge and fell to the ground, the only thing that would happen is that her cloak would be dirty when she got up to brush herself off. She had nothing to fear from a fall like that.

It was still an interesting thought though.

Instead of taking the ledge’s dare to jump, she tilted her head back and closed her eyes at the feel of the breeze. She did her best to ignore the smell - New York summers had a distinct tinge to them that she didn’t exactly relish - but the breeze offered at least a little relief from the stifling heat on the street below.

It was all the concrete, she figured. It just absorbed the heat of the day and radiated it back, making everything just a touch more miserable. She far preferred the wide open spaces of somewhere like - maybe New Mexico or something. But her work was with people. So where the people were, so was she, most of the time.

Maria settled down next to her with a sigh. “What’s left on the list for you today?”

Darcy shrugged. “Few old timers. A factory accident. No kids today, thank goodness.”

“Kids are the worst,” Maria agreed. “Although I have a TB up next. I am not looking forward to that.”

Darcy continued staring out at the horizon. The tuberculosis wards weren’t her favorite either. It wasn’t as common these days, but common enough that Darcy knew to dread it.

“There’s just something about them,” Maria continued, then paused with a calculated purse of her lips. Darcy eyed her warily, knowing that look. Maria was about to ask a favor.

“How grisly is the factory accident?” Maria asked, her voice far too casual.

There it was. Darcy refrained from rolling her eyes, but couldn’t stop her smile.

“Come on,” Maria conjoled. “I’ll trade you the TB ward for the accident. At least the ward will be quiet?”

Darcy remained silent, pretending to consider the offer. She was going to take it, and Maria knew it, but this was a game they played. To pass the time. 

Things got a little boring after the first few hundred years, after all.

Hell, Darcy was considering leaping from the Woolworth Building just for the novelty of it.

“What’s it worth to you?” she finally asked.

“I already offered to take the accident!”

“And?” Darcy replied, with a raised eyebrow.

Maria sighed. “And I’ll cover the paperwork for both.”

“Deal,” Darcy said immediately. She hated paperwork and Maria knew it.

“Pushover. I would have held out for more.”

Darcy grinned. “You _really_ hate the TB ward.” 

Maria made a non-committal noise as she handed over the white paper containing the details. Darcy skimmed it. It was here in New York, which was nice, Darcy wouldn’t have to go far. Then she got to the time of death.

“Maria,” Darcy said, keeping her voice even. “This is in ten minutes.”

“Yep.”

She glared at her. “I should have held out on you.”

Maria smiled at that. “Yep.”

Darcy sighed and dragged herself to her feet. “You owe me.”

“Yeah yeah. Put it on my tab.”

* * *

The room was quiet when Darcy materialised. That wasn’t uncommon. There wasn’t much chatter happening in the TB wards Darcy saw most days. They might not have been nearly as full or as busy as they were not all that long ago, but the quiet hadn’t changed.

What was uncommon were the two visitors at the bedside of Darcy’s next charge. She frowned. They shouldn’t be here - even Darcy knew that. Most of the humans she ferried from these wards were alone - the risk of infecting others still too high. She looked at them curiously, trying to determine just what exactly they were doing here and how they’d gotten in. 

The slight man sitting beside the bed almost certainly shouldn’t be here. He looked to Darcy as though a stiff breeze might knock him down, although there was something in the set of his jaw that suggested he’d curse the breeze and get right back up again. The thought made her smile. 

No, he wasn’t the reason they were able to be here. She looked to the other man. Oh yes, he was definitely the one who’d charmed their way past the nurses so that they could be at this woman’s bedside. He was the dangerous kind of human, one who could slip past most any defences. She liked that, even if she’d never admit it.

Then again, who would she admit it to? 

The woman in the bed coughed twice, then her kind eyes flicked to Darcy and were suddenly filled with sadness, understanding, and resignation. Then Sarah Rogers' face settled into peaceful determination as she returned her attention to the man sitting next to her.

“Steven,” she said, her voice soft, but strong, “it’ll be okay.”

“Ma,” he replied, his voice breaking a little as he choked back a sob. He gripped her hand, firm and gentle. The man standing in the corner looked on, sadly.

She turned her attention to him. “Look after each other. The way you always have. You boys…” her voice trailed off as she coughed. The man at her side rushed to soothe her but she shook her head. “My boys,” she whispered. She reached out her free hand to the man standing in the corner, who looked a bit stunned, but moved forward to take it.

“Be good. I love you both.”

“Mrs. Rogers…”

“Ma…”

She smiled as the light in her eyes dimmed. “What do we always do, son?”

The man sitting next to her hung his head as tears streamed down his face. “We get back up,” he whispered. “We always get back up.”

“That’s right. Can you do that for me? Can you get back up?”

His breath hitched. “Not without you, Ma.”

The other man crouched down next to his friend and clasped his shoulder. “We will, Mrs. Rogers. I’ll make sure of it.”

Sarah smiled. “That’s my boy. Such good boys...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes fluttered closed.

Darcy waited a beat, wanting to be sure that Sarah had said everything she needed to say, then reached forward and touched Sarah’s hand. Suddenly, Sarah Rogers was standing next to her, staring down at her body and the two men now mourning over it.

“Will they be alright?” Sarah asked.

The question surprised her. It wasn’t the usual question she received. In fact - she almost never got questions. In the Bad Times, when the amount of humans passing from one life to the next was so great that reapers were stretched thin, many humans would be pulled from their mortal lives and sent directly to an afterlife without a guide. It was a _mess_ and no one liked it, but occasionally it couldn’t be helped. Any other time, if a human spoke at all, her charges either raged at her as they mourned the loss of their mortal life, or they peppered her with assumptions about where they were headed and who she actually was. At this point, Darcy had been mistaken for a variety of deities and once, amusingly, it had been assumed that she was the reincarnated soul of their childhood pet.

And who knew, maybe she was. It wasn’t like reapers knew where they came from. They just...were.

“My son and his friend,” Sarah clarified, when Darcy had been silent just a little too long.

Darcy turned back to look at the two men. Sarah’s son was crouched over her body, sobbing, while his friend stood behind him, a strong and steady presence as his own tears flowed freely and silently down his face. Steve suddenly spun around and almost collapsed into his friend’s embrace, sobbing into his shoulder and soaking his shirt.

“It’s alright, Stevie,” he soothed. “She’s in a better place now, yeah? And you and me - we stick together, like we always have. Like she wanted.”

“Buck - she’s - she’s -”

“I know, pal. I know.”

Darcy watched the scene curiously. She had never stayed behind like this before. It was fascinating, watching the two grieve. She wished she could give them some sign, some reassurance that everything was okay, more than okay. Sarah Rogers was going to one of Darcy’s favorite afterlives, after all. It was peaceful, and beautiful, and there would be no pain. It might be a little dull to some, but at least from there Sarah could watch over her son and his friend as much as she wanted. If reapers had an afterlife, Darcy would want hers to look a little like that.

“Bucky always was the strong one. If it weren’t for him, I…” Sarah’s voice trailed off.

Bucky’s eyes drifted to the corner where Darcy and Sarah stood as he continued to soothe Steve, holding his friend as he cried for the mother he’d lost. His mouth opened slightly as his eyes landed on the spot where Darcy stood.

It was unsettling, but Darcy dismissed it. Humans couldn’t see her. He was just struggling to both manage his own grief and comfort his friend. 

Bucky looked away, returning his attention to his friend and Darcy felt an unfamiliar pain in her chest. It was a curious sensation. This day was just full of surprises, apparently.

Who needed the Woolworth Building? Maybe Darcy should spend more time watching humans grieve.

“Will they be alright?” Sarah asked again.

Darcy swallowed hard and tore her gaze away from Bucky and Steve, returning her attention to Sarah. She tried to smile, to force down the unsteady feeling in her heart. “You know them best. You tell me.”

Sarah smiled as she looked back at the two men. 

Steve pulled out of Bucky’s embrace and wiped at his face miserably with his sleeve. 

“Go wash your face,” Bucky suggested. “I’ll stay here with her.”

Steve sniffled noisily. “I gotta...where do I start? There’s...people to tell and things to do and -”

“And it will all wait five minutes while you wash your face and get a glass of water,” Bucky said. 

Sarah’s smile grew. “They’ll be fine. As long as they stick together, they’ll be fine.”

* * *

“What do you do now?” Sarah asked.

Darcy was confused. “What do you mean?”

“Once you’ve taken me wherever we’re going. What do you do?”

Darcy stared at her for a moment. She’d been doing this for a long time. No human had ever asked about her life before.

“I...move onto the next name on my list,” Darcy forced out. 

Sarah smiled sadly. “No rest for the weary then?”

“How did…”

“Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, dear. You look so very tired.”

“I am,” Darcy replied without thinking. “Oh! But-”

Sarah laughed. “It’s okay, you know. Who am I going to tell?”

Darcy understood that feeling all too well.

They stopped in front of the entrance to Sarah’s afterlife. Sarah looked nervously at the door, but valiantly tried to hide it.

“It’s okay,” Darcy whispered. “This is one of my favorite afterlives. I think you’ll like it here.”

Sarah smiled. “Thank you.” She lifted a hand to push open the door, then hesitated. “Will you be alright?”

“Me?” At Sarah’s nod, Darcy forced a bright smile on her face. “I’m always fine. When you get inside, look for Pietro and tell him Darcy sent you. He’ll show you the ropes. And all the best viewing spots to keep an eye on your boys.”

Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears and she quickly enveloped Darcy in a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she quickly released Darcy, squared her shoulders, and marched into her afterlife.


	3. Before: Chapter 2

Darcy rubbed the sleep out of her eyes as she stumbled into the office. She swore her hours off were getting shorter. She blearily stared at the logo on the wall while she waited for an elevator. 

The letters stood for something, she knew they did. But 700 years of not really needing to use the knowledge had worn down the memory.

Sending Humans Into Eternal Life Division? Maybe?

That probably wasn’t right. Division of what? 

Maybe somebody really just wanted it to spell SHIELD.

The elevator slid open and Darcy stepped inside, dismissing the thought. Her version of the acronym made as much sense as anything else. She wasn’t going to be quizzed on it any time soon, so it really didn’t matter.

She nodded at a few other reapers she passed, who mostly ignored her. It was fine - she was a low-level reaper, generally assigned to the boring, mundane cases. The white pages. The big cases, the yellows, the blues, the _red_ pages, the cases that had major impact - those cases were assigned to reapers with specialized training. STRIKE, they called themselves. Another acronym that Darcy had long-since forgotten the meaning of. It was a dumb name, to start, and to get on the team required a lot of training and classwork and - Darcy shuddered at the thought - _politics_.

Whatever power struggles went on behind the scenes here at SHIELD, she didn’t know nor did she care. She just wanted to come in, complete her list, and go home. Maybe see something interesting while she was at it. Something to stave off the boredom.

Anything to pass the time.

The breath was punched out of her as a large, hulking thug of a reaper plowed into her. 

“Watch it, reaper,” Brock snarled as he passed.

Darcy glared at him, but said nothing. She really hated those STRIKE guys.

Maria quickly sidled up next to her. “You okay?” she asked.

“Brock’s an ass,” Darcy muttered.

“Yeah. He’s an effective one though. You hear the latest?”

Darcy had not, nor did she care. She just wanted to get her list and get on with it.

Maria gave her a knowing look. “You might be the least ambitious reaper I’ve ever met.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being an everyday reaper, Maria,” Darcy said, trying not to get defensive. “All humans need looking after. Goodness knows they can’t look after themselves. I’m perfectly happy where I’m at.”

Maria’s eyes filled with concern. “Are you though?”

Darcy didn’t know how to answer that, so she didn’t. “Got any time in the schedule to meet up later?” she asked instead.

“Sure. Sunset in San Francisco?”

“Sounds good. I’ll see you later.” Darcy left with a small wave. As she made her way to the assignment desk, she stopped to peek at the large screens projecting scenes from various locations on Earth. One of the views switched to a diner in New York and Darcy could almost smell the coffee that would permeate the air. She smiled a little at the thought - coffee had always smelled delightful to her, but she’d never tasted it. While it was a necessary ingredient for many humans to function, it was toxic to reapers. One of the very few things she had to fear. Still, she enjoyed the smell whenever she could. Maybe that made her weird. 

At the corner of the screen, a face caught her eye.

“Bucky?” she whispered.

He sat in the booth, quickly eating his breakfast and taking a large sip from his mug. She stood, transfixed at the sight. What were the chances that she’d see him here on the monitors only days after she’d ferried one of his loved ones to her afterlife? She’d never seen anyone she recognized on the monitors before. Not that she’d really ever known all that many humans, but still. It had been a long 700 years that she’d been in this job - it was strange that this had never happened before.

His motions slowed, the look on his face pensive. He stared straight ahead for a moment, then he turned his head and looked seemingly straight into the monitor. His face lit up with a smile and Darcy felt her face warm. 

Then the image changed and she was staring at a park in Florida instead.

Darcy blinked a few times, startled.

“Come back,” she whispered. Then she realized what she was saying, what she was _doing_ and shook herself. 

It was a coincidence. That was all. Clearly, her fatigue was starting to get to her.

Maybe Sarah Rogers had been right. Maybe she needed a break.

Too bad this gig didn’t come with vacation time. She wouldn’t even know what to do with it if it did.

No, that was a lie. She’d sleep. Get some laundry done. Go to Reaper City and make some friends. Sneak into a human theater and watch a show.

Not that she’d ever thought about any of that. 

She rubbed her eyes again as she turned away from the monitors and approached the assignment desk. She nodded at the clerk who wordlessly handed over her roster for the day. She stepped out of the way before quickly flipping through the white pages. 

Not too long of a list today. Maybe she would actually have some time for a break for once.

* * *

Darcy peeked around the corner as the two men came up the stairs. It was strange, this urge to hide. The humans couldn’t see her, after all, and even if they could, it wasn’t like they could do anything. She had nothing to fear. Still, standing in the open while she watched their conversation felt like an intrusion. 

Maybe that’s what this feeling was. Somewhere along the way, she’d somehow picked up _manners_.

After she’d delivered the last human on today’s list to their afterlife, Darcy found herself back in New York, wandering the streets, looking for the two men Sarah had left behind. She just wanted to check on them, make sure they were doing alright. The experience that morning with the monitor unnerved her a little and she felt compelled to drop in and see how they were doing. It felt like the least Darcy could do. For Sarah. Since she had the time today.

If she’d sent a few humans along without an escort to speed things up, well. That was her secret.

It wasn’t strictly against the rules for her to observe humans like this, but it wasn’t in her job description either and she was pretty sure the others would have _opinions_ on Darcy spending her time like this. If Maria ever found out, she’d never hear the end of it. And if Phil ever got wind of it? That would be an uncomfortable conversation.

Still, Sarah had been so kind and the three humans appeared to love each other so much, Darcy couldn’t help her curiosity. If anyone ever asked, she could tell them the truth - things get a little boring after 700 years. 

Besides, it would just be the once. Just to see. It wasn’t like she would make it a habit. She peered around the corner to get a better look, to better hear their conversation.

“I’m with you to the end of the line, pal,” Bucky reassured Steve. Steve nodded, then went inside. Bucky hesitated at the door, fidgeting a little with the cuff of his sleeve, before he glanced over his shoulder. Darcy ducked back a little on instinct, feeling guilty for spying on them.

Bucky’s eyes lingered near the corner where Darcy had hidden herself. After a moment, he shook his head with a small smile and followed Steve inside.

Darcy felt something in her chest loosen a little and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could take a deep breath. She nodded to herself, satisfied, then twirled a peculiar coin between her fingers and felt the pull at her navel as the magic whisked her away.

They were okay. They were sticking together, like Sarah wanted. And Darcy? 

Darcy had an appointment with a sunset in San Francisco.


	4. Before: Chapter 3

_11942 HE. (1942, as you might know it)_

Darcy gave an encouraging smile and a little wave to Fred and Nora Raymond as they crossed the threshold into their afterlife before letting her head fall back with a sigh. Train accidents were probably her least favorite and this one had been a real doozy. The train caught fire and the couple’s poor son had tried so desperately to get to them. She could only hope that little Thomas found his way in the world somehow. Maybe the humans who’d pulled him from the wreckage would help look after him.

Darcy made a mental note to look in on Thomas at some point, although with how busy she was these days, she wasn’t sure if that point would be in the next few years. With the war raging across Europe, Darcy barely had time to sleep, let alone anything else. They weren’t in Bad Times, not yet, but there was a quiet anxiety in the air every time Darcy stepped into the SHIELD office to pick up the day’s list. She expected an announcement any day now. 

No reaper wanted to see Bad Times come around again. When things got really bad, when the death tolls were mounting and there just weren’t enough reapers to catch up, SHIELD would make a Bad Times declaration. That meant triple the workload, which was never good, but the worst part? The worst part was that to save time, reapers had to send all of the souls they collected on without an escort. No more walks to the entrance of Fólkvangr or Tír na nÓg or The Summerland or any of the other afterlives. Not until the Bad Times were gone.

Yes, Darcy would admit to sending a soul or two on without an escort in her day. She usually only did it in very specific circumstances and she did not make it a habit. It wasn’t fair to the human and Darcy always felt guilty for days afterward. If they had to make a habit of it, if it were to become the standard? Darcy didn’t want to think about it.

As it was, she’d been working almost nonstop for three weeks now and was in desperate need of a break. Darcy had never been through Bad Times and she couldn’t imagine how things would get _busier_. 

Maria, on the other hand, had been thriving in the chaos. She had been promoted and was leading a new team that was directly responsible for logistics, making sure that each reaper’s list was assigned for maximum efficiency. Her team was doing everything they could to put off a declaration of Bad Times - on top of her own list of assignments. Maria was busier than ever and appeared to be loving it. Darcy was thrilled for her, as Maria had always wanted more than the mundane assignments they’d been doing for the last few centuries. It didn’t prevent Darcy from missing her - or quietly thanking whatever lucky stars might be out there for a reaper that _she_ hadn’t been asked to lead a team like that.

Not that anyone was considering her for such an assignment. Forget being at the bottom of the list - Darcy was pretty sure her name never even _made_ the list.

With the Raymonds being the last names on her list and having been safely delivered, she _should_ go directly back to the office to pick up her next roster. She knew that. It was a hectic day and procrastinating wasn’t going to change that. She held the coin in her hand and considered it. One flip and she’d be in the office, a brief stop to pick up another roster, then on her way to wherever she was needed next.

Or.

She could take five minutes to herself and go visit Bucky and Steve. Just to check on them.

She gripped the coin tightly.

Five minutes. It was just a small break, to clear her mind. Then she’d be able to get back to work. It wasn’t like she did this all the time. 

She never really _meant_ to do it at all. It was only supposed to be the once, just to satisfy her curiosity. But once turned into a few times, which turned into once a month, then once a week, then…

Okay. Maybe she _did_ do this all the time.

But still. It had been a hard day and she was having a little trouble shaking off the memory of the train accident. She could take five minutes to herself. It would be fine. In the grand scheme of things, what was five minutes? Barely a moment.

She materialised in the corner of the kitchen of a small apartment. The furnishings were worn but clean, and sunshine streamed in through the threadbare curtains in the window over the sink. It was quiet, no sign of Steve anywhere.

Well, no sign of the man in person, but traces of Steve were all over the apartment. From the tea tin on the counter, to the box of pencils on the table, to the scraps of paper and half-finished sketches gently tacked up all over the walls, there was no question that Steve Rogers lived here. The tea towel left precariously on the edge of the counter was all Bucky, but otherwise his presence wasn’t quite so obvious. If it weren’t for the jacket on the back of the chair and the shoes lying askew at the door - just in the right spot for Steve to trip - Darcy would probably be looking to get her coin checked, because she wouldn’t think Bucky was here.

If she could actually tell anyone what she was using her coin for, that was. Which she couldn’t.

She found Bucky himself hunched over a letter at the table, his head in his hands, mussing his hair. She smiled a little. She’d looked in on him enough to know by now that he was meticulous about his hair. Any moment now he’d realize what he’d done and would rush to a mirror to fix it. 

But for once he didn’t. The smile slipped off her face as she realized that something wasn’t right. Something was actually very wrong.

Oh. She glanced around quickly. There weren’t any obvious signs, but Steve _had_ been a little under the weather recently. He wouldn’t have - no. No, she would have known. His name would have been on her list, if the worst had come to pass.

She would have known. Right?

Bucky sat back in the chair with a sigh, his eyes closed as he leaned his head back. There were tiny lines at the corner of his mouth as he pursed his lips in...frustration maybe? Darcy didn’t like the look, whatever it was. It didn’t belong on Bucky’s face.

Darcy crept closer to get a better look at the letter Bucky had left on the table.

_ORDER TO REPORT FOR INDUCTION_

He’d been drafted into the human war. 

The sudden image of Bucky’s name showing up on her roster assaulted her brain and she let out a soft gasp, the thought punching the breath right out of her. She distantly registered the difference in her reaction to the thought of Steve or Bucky dying, but set the thought aside for examination later.

No. No way. There was _no way_ she was going to have to take Bucky. He was going to live a long and happy life. He’d fall in love, have a family. He’d...get a house and follow...baseball? That was something the humans did. And he and Steve would be neighbors and spend their whole lives looking out for one another. Maybe she’d see his name on her list in 70 or 80 years and she could whisk him away _then_ as he regaled her with stories of a life well lived, filled with light and love and happiness. She wouldn’t be so busy and she could take the time to finally talk to him the way she might think about sometimes. She could tell him how she’d been here, through so much. How he’d never been alone, in these quiet moments. She could take him the long way to his chosen afterlife and point out all of her favorite sights along the way. And he’d smile that smile of his and everything would be lovely.

She would not have to take him during this damned war. She would not.

She just wouldn’t.

He opened his eyes. If he could see her, he would be staring right into hers.

“What am I going to do?” he asked the room.

Darcy felt her breath catch in her chest. She reached out, her fingers almost brushing his shoulder. She hesitated, almost a little afraid to touch him, and pulled back before she got too close.

“You won’t be alone,” she promised him. Promised herself.

* * *

Keeping her promise ended up being easy. Half of a word to Maria and Darcy was suddenly on one of the wartime teams, yellow pages filling her roster as she pulled humans from the front and sent them on. She rearranged her schedule to align more closely with Bucky’s and visited at every opportunity, even more than before. She was with him in basic, when they put a rifle in his hands and promoted him to Sergeant. She was there when they sent him back to New York to wait for his orders. She was there when he finally got his notice that he’d be shipping out in the morning. When he realized he had one last night in New York and had to decide how to spend it.

“Guess I should go have some fun,” he muttered to himself. “Find Steve, see the Expo. Get a glimpse of the future.”

“All the things you’re fighting for,” Darcy whispered. He had a habit of speaking aloud in empty rooms, muttering to himself, a habit that had only grown stronger over these last few months. It had grown so much that she’d gotten into the habit of responding. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see or hear her. It felt nice to pretend that they were having a conversation. She could tell herself that she was practicing for the day when this war was over and she wasn’t so busy all the time. When she would have a few off hours that she could spend in Reaper City and meet with friends. Or actually make any friends. That would be nice. Maria was great, but Darcy wasn’t sure they were friends. The lack of interaction with anyone else had never really bothered her before, but now that she’d spent so much time with Steve and Bucky, she understood the appeal.

He tapped his fingers on the table, his hand so close to hers. She ached to reach out and touch him. She didn’t.

The tapping stopped. His fingers twitched a little to the side, towards her, brushing her fingers with his. Darcy inhaled sharply at the unexpected touch. He held himself still, staring straight ahead. 

“All the things I’m fighting for,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points if you catch the Invaders reference. ;-)


	5. Before: Chapter 4

_Azzano. 11943 HE._

“Radio B company, tell them we need cover!” Bucky yelled over the sound of the explosions and gunfire all around them.

“That might be tough!” Gabe yelled back, holding up the busted radio.

“Bucky, behind you!” Dum Dum screamed.

Bucky spun around and fired. He assessed the terrain and realized another wave was almost on them. “Here they come!” he screamed and moved to take up a better position. He slammed into the dirt next to where she crouched.

He snuggled up to his rifle and peered through the scope, his breathing slowing as he calmed himself to take aim. 

Darcy didn’t fear for him today. His name wasn’t on her list. She just wanted to see him. She’d woken up with a terrible feeling that wouldn’t ease until she laid eyes on him, so the moment she had a few spare seconds, she’d come to him. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered to himself, his voice tinged with fear. 

She placed a hand on his shoulder, whisper soft, to comfort him. Ever since the day he’d unknowingly brushed her fingers, she hadn’t been able to stop reaching out to him. She imagined that he could feel it, that it brought him a tiny bit of comfort in this terrifying place. 

“I won’t leave you here alone,” she promised. 

He squared his shoulders, peered through the scope, and fired with new determination.

A new sound filled the air as the sky lit up with a strange blue light. Bucky paused in his firing to gape at the scene. Darcy scootched up, peering over the side of the trench, just in time to watch more men vaporize before her very eyes.

Terror gripped her chest. What in the name of all the afterlives was that?

Bucky and the others slowly climbed out of the trench. 

“Well, that looks....new,” Dum Dum deadpanned.

Darcy watched as a tank pulled into view as it crested the hill. The field went silent as the tank’s gun repositioned.

Repositioned in their direction.

“NOOOO!” she screamed, realizing what was about to happen.

“GET DOWN!” Bucky yelled as he tackled Dum Dum and Gabe back into the trench.

* * *

The march to the prison was long, but Darcy stuck next to Bucky the entire way, matching every step. He was agitated and tired, but he kept a close eye on his men as they marched. His eyes kept moving, searching the treeline, and Darcy assumed he was calculating the chances of escape. 

She was far from an expert, but as far as Darcy could tell, the chances weren’t good.

As they approached the gates, a uniformed man wearing a colonel’s rank sneered at them.

“Into the kennel, you dogs,” he jeered.

“You gotta get outta here,” Bucky murmured.

Darcy touched his hand. She didn’t want him marching in there any more than he did, but there wasn’t anything she could do. She pretended that he could feel her touch and that it brought him some measure of comfort. It would have to be enough.

* * *

Bucky coughed into his sleeve and shook his head, trying to hide just how miserable he felt. Darcy’s heart broke for him. She could feel the heat radiating off of him as he slogged through another long shift in the prison camp, building weapons and planes that would likely be used against his own countrymen and allies. 

Now, on top of everything else, he was running a fever and there was nothing she could do to help him.

“Sarge - why don’t you lean against the wall for a minute, huh? I can cover, Lohmer won’t catch you,” Dum Dum half whispered over the sound of the machinery.

“I can pull my weight, Dugan,” Bucky snapped.

“I know you can,” Dum Dum replied, not rising to the bait. “But-”

“They’ll put us back in the tank in a few hours. I can rest then.”

Darcy sighed. “Stop being a stubborn ass and take the grace that’s offered.”

Bucky’s eyes moved in her direction and his neck flushed a little. The fever was really starting to wear on him and she wished with all her heart he would take the small mercy that Dugan could give him. She felt worse than useless - she couldn’t even provide him with this tiny comfort that Dugan was offering. 

There wasn’t much she wouldn’t trade right now to give him that. She would have taken a thousand of Maria’s TB assignments or put up with internal SHIELD politics or hell - she would be nice to _Brock_ if it meant she could help Bucky.

Bucky doubled over as his breathing was racked with coughs once again. “Alright, Dugan,” he rasped. “You win. Just for a minute though.”

“That’s the spirit, Sarge,” Dum Dum replied, cheerfully.

Darcy smiled in relief as Bucky stepped back and leaned against the wall while Dum Dum quickly moved to block Bucky from the sight of their jailers. Darcy leaned against the wall next to Bucky and leaned in close to brush a kiss against his cheek. Bucky’s eyes fluttered closed and he inhaled slowly. She could feel his pulse race under her fingertips as she gently grasped his wrist.

“Rest,” she whispered. “You’re not alone. I’m watching over you.”

“DUMMKOPF!”

“Here it comes,” Bucky muttered, then coughed uncontrollably. Darcy ached to reach for him, but the Colonel was advancing. 

“Sorry about that, Fritze,” Bucky taunted. “You wouldn’t happen to-” _cough_ “-have a doctor in this dump -” 

_KANNGG_

Colonel Lohmer swung the missile casing over his head and struck Bucky with it, knocking him to the ground. He raised the casing again and slammed it down onto Bucky’s back. He swung again and again, the noise deafening as it echoed through the factory over the sound of the machines.

“This -”

_KANNGG_

“-is the cure -”

_KANNGG_

“-for what ails you!”

_KANNGG_

Lohmer continued screaming his insults as Bucky collapsed to the floor under the onslaught. Before she could even think about what she was doing, Darcy charged forward and gripped Lohmer by the throat. 

“You will _never_ touch him again,” she growled as her power surged through her fingers. Lohmer choked out a gasp and then his eyes went dark as his body went limp.

Her rage evaporated. She shoved Lohmer’s lifeless body away and he fell to the ground. Darcy’s breath stuttered as she realized what she’d done.

She’d killed him. She’d prematurely sent a man on to his afterlife. No paperwork, no coin. Just…

“Oh no,” she whispered, staring at her hands.

“Oh no,” Dum Dum muttered. “Jimmy! Jimmy, what happened?” He crouched down next to Bucky and checked him over. “Jones!” he hissed. “Get over here.”

Gabe looked around, then slid to the ground next to Dum Dum and Bucky. He gave Bucky a quick once over while Dum Dum went back to his place on the line, attempting to cover for both Bucky and Gabe.

“Walking pneumonia, probably,” Gabe muttered to Dum Dum. “Plus a few broken ribs, contusions, maybe a concussion.” He shook his head. “He won’t last another shift.”

“He’s not going to last another hour if they realize Lohmer’s dead,” Dum Dum hissed back.

Gabe looked around the factory. “You think you can slip some of that gun powder to Dernier?”

“Sure. Why?”

Gabe grinned. “Because I think the good colonel is about to have a very bad accident.”

Gabe and Dum Dum’s quiet plotting washed over her and Darcy tried to control her panic. She looked back to Bucky, crumpled in an unconscious heap on the floor as Gabe hovered protectively over him. 

Confident that Bucky was in safe hands for the moment, Darcy flipped her coin between her fingers and winked away. She found herself standing at the edge of the top of the Woolworth Building, staring out at the skyline as the wind stung her eyes. She barely noticed, her mind racing as she tried to control her breathing.

She had prematurely sent Lohmer to his afterlife. For all that there weren’t actual rules to being a reaper, there was one that was pretty much a given. Breaking it was...unthinkable, really. As far as she knew, it had never been done. She’d certainly never heard about it in her 700 years. She didn’t even know that it _could_ be done.

But she’d done it.

The worst part was that Darcy couldn’t even bring herself to feel bad about it. Bucky hadn’t been on her list today, she should have known that he wasn’t in danger of dying. But one look at how badly he’d been hurt and Darcy lost all reason. 

And that was a Problem. One so much bigger than rushing through her responsibilities to go look in on a human who didn’t even know she existed.

Which was exactly why she needed to stay away from now on. She just needed to get herself back to work. Back into a routine. One that didn’t revolve around Bucky Barnes or Steve Rogers or any other human. If STRIKE didn’t detain her immediately, if they weren’t already dispatching teams to collect her for recycling, she would get back to work and try to forget any of this ever happened.

Simple. 

She would go into the office and pick up a roster, escort all of the names on it to their afterlives, then go home. Go to sleep. Repeat it all, everyday, until all of this was barely a memory; worn down the way the letters in SHIELD didn’t mean anything to her anymore.

She looked down at the street below. It was a simple plan, as simple as taking one step forward just to experience the fall.

Simple. Right.


	6. Before: Chapter 5

Darcy slipped back into the SHIELD office, as nonchalantly as possible. Nothing seemed amiss, not yet. If there were audible alarms somewhere, they weren’t sounding. With the sheer number of souls moving between worlds at the moment, it was entirely possible that Lohmer’s premature passing had gone completely unnoticed.

Darcy wasn’t sure she believed in luck, but if she did, she didn’t think she would rate _that_ amount of luck. She kept her guard up and cautiously continued inside.

She made her way to the elevator without incident, the other reapers moving around her without noticing her at all. Same as always. Darcy held her breath as the elevator ascended, just in case. Maybe it was lucky.

With the beep for her floor sounded, Darcy pushed through the crowd of reapers with murmured apologies and exited onto the floor. No chaos, no alarms. Darcy released her breath. She might have actually gotten away with it, unnoticed.

“You! Reaper!” a voice bellowed.

Or not.

Darcy turned towards the sound and motioned at herself, as if to ask “who me?”

Brock stalked towards her. “Sleeping on the job, reaper? If you hadn’t noticed, things are a little busy around here.”

Darcy bit back the instinctual “fuck off.” 

“Just here to grab my next roster,” she said instead. “Third one today, actually.”

Given her predicament, she really should not mouth off like that, least of all to someone like Brock. But there was just something about the guy. He had a very punchable face.

Brock studied her and she clamped down on the urge to fidget, returning his gaze. He was an idiot and she didn’t answer to him, but he loved to act like he owned the place and right now she could not afford to pick that fight. She did her best to keep her expression neutral, but she wasn’t sure she was successful. 

“Alright then,” he said finally. “As you were.”

Darcy turned without reply and started for the assignment desk. She wondered if she should have tried to be nicer, maybe tried to flirt a little or if that would have raised more suspicion, especially after snapping at him a little. There was no way to know for sure if things would be different if she’d tried.

Besides, her stomach was in enough knots as it was. No need to turn it further by flirting with _Brock_. 

“Reaper!” Brock called again.

Darcy stopped and gave herself a moment to force her annoyance into indifference before turning around. She raised an eyebrow at him, wordlessly asking him to spit out whatever it was he wanted to say.

“You’re on Europe duty, right?”

“Who isn’t?” she replied.

Brock narrowed his eyes at her. “Something funny’s going on in Italy,” he said, causing her panic to spike.

“Funny, how?” she asked, forcing herself to keep her tone even.

Brock huffed, incredulous. “Something out of the ordinary,” he said, his tone patronizing.

“Nothing’s ordinary right now,” she shot back and turned to leave. The faster she put distance between herself and the STRIKE leader, the better.

“Yeah,” Brock said, his voice casual, yet taunting. “I wouldn’t expect a low-level like you to know the difference.” He shrugged. “But still. If you see something…”

Darcy turned back and plastered a fake smile on her face. “I’ll be sure to report it.”

Brock smiled. Well, leered. Leered would be more accurate. It made her skin crawl. 

“You do that.”

Darcy turned to leave and Brock didn’t call out again. She kept a steady pace all the way to the assignment desk and joined the line. 

What were the chances the “something funny” Brock was referring to was Lohmer’s death? What were the chances it was something else? Darcy couldn’t be sure.

There were a lot of things she wasn’t sure about today.

Indecision clawed at her. If it was Lohmer, the safest thing to do would be to stay as far away from that prison camp as she could manage. 

If it wasn’t Lohmer, if it was something else, if it had something to do with Bucky....

She closed her eyes with a sigh and cursed the day she’d traded Maria for Sarah Rogers’ file.

* * *

Darcy looked around, confused. She’d intended to materialise directly next to Bucky and had expected to arrive in the cell where he’d been kept for so long. Gabe’s assessment of Bucky’s injuries had sounded bad enough that it would have had to keep him off the floor for at least a few days, right? She had hoped that he would have ended up in the medical ward. Even with the injuries inflicted by Lohmer, the thought had provided a tiny bit of relief. He’d been so sick recently - the only thing that had kept her from losing her head entirely and refusing to leave his side was that by going to work, she could ensure that he wasn’t ending up on _any_ reaper’s list.

She didn’t know what she’d do if she found his name. But she had to do _something_.

Well. Something _other_ than randomly killing any human who dared lay a hand on Bucky. 

It was absurd, getting this attached to a human. She didn’t care so much about the job, save for the fact that there was no other option for a reaper - no out, no retirement plan. They existed to ferry humans from one life to the next and that was it. No, getting in trouble with SHIELD didn’t really register as something to worry about. There hadn’t been a recycling in...well, at least the 700 years Darcy had been around. 

But getting attached to a human? Their lives were so fleeting, so _temporary_ in the grand scheme of things. She would blink and he would be gone and then what? Would she carry the hurt of all this for the rest of eternity? 

He didn’t even know she was there. She liked to _pretend_ he knew, that he enjoyed her presence and looked forward to her arrival, but that’s all that it was. 

He didn’t even know she existed.

She pushed the sudden pain of that thought away and focused on the present. The sign on the door said “medical ward.” If that was true, it was the most menacing medical ward she’d ever been in. There was nothing calm or healing about the place.

She’d been around the prison enough to know by now that most people who were injured on the floor were taken back to their cells. So why was Bucky here?

And where was everyone else?

“Barnes…” a voice muttered, senselessly. She rushed in the direction of the sound, pushing aside all of her questions and worries as she followed the echoes of his voice before finally finding him strapped down to a cold metal table.

“Bucky,” she whispered. She cupped his face in her hands and she imagined that he leaned into her touch, just a little.

Rage boiled in her gut, warring with her relief at the sight of him. He looked worse than the last time she’d seen him, if that were possible. His bruises were fading, but his fever still raged. He was sweaty and his skin was clammy and...was that blood trickling from his ear? 

“What have they done to you?” she whispered.

She ran one hand over his hair while her other hand sought out his. She grasped him, giving him a reassuring squeeze, even if he couldn’t feel it. She clenched her jaw and imagined her molars grinding into dust.

He blinked blearily up at her. “Please…” he breathed.

Darcy stilled, wondering if he was really asking for what she thought he was asking for and wishing for the millionth time that she could just _talk_ to him. He wasn’t on her list. He wasn’t supposed to die here. She’d made that decision for someone once already, albeit unconsciously. She’d already ended a human’s mortal life too soon.

She _could_ do it, she knew that now. She could reach for her power and send him prematurely to his afterlife. She could spare him whatever future pain was in store - either at the hands of these madmen or as an aftereffect of what had already been done to him. She could cash in every favor Maria had ever owed her to slip him under the radar and spare him any more pain. An eternity of favors owed, just so he wouldn’t have to spend one more moment in this hell. 

It was a risk. She didn’t even know yet if the first time she’d done it had truly gone unnoticed and this all seemed like _so much_ risk for one human. 

At the same time, it wasn’t just some random human. It was Bucky. 

That settled it. For Bucky, she would use her power twice. The first, to save him from death. The second, to save him from something worse than death.

She could save him, but she’d never see him again.

She shook her head. _That_ didn’t matter.

She _would_ save him. And she would never see him again.

So be it. If this was how it ended, then there was one thing she’d wanted to do first.

She leaned down and brushed a soft kiss against his lips. Just a brush, but it filled her heart with warmth. She held on to the feeling, tucked it into her chest and locked it close to her heart, where she could keep it safe for all eternity. A second brush of lips, then she squeezed his hand one last time. She reached for her power and-

“Bucky!” Steve’s voice echoed through the ward, startling her. She breathed a sigh of relief - his friend was here. His friend would save him. They were looking after each other - just like Sarah said they would.

At least - she thought it was Steve. It was a much taller version of Steve, in any event. What in the world had he done to himself?

She really probably should have looked in on him more. Clearly, he was a menace without Bucky’s influence.

A menace who was now six feet tall and running without any hint of a wheeze.

Humans. Honestly.

Darcy quickly moved out of the way so Steve could get to Bucky. The relief in Steve’s eyes at finding Bucky alive matched Darcy’s own as he made quick work of the restraints holding Bucky to the table. 

“I thought you were dead,” Steve said.

Bucky looked blearily at Steve. “I thought you were smaller.”

“Go,” Darcy urged, wishing once more that they could hear her. “Run now, banter later!”

Bucky pushed Steve ahead and they made their way out of the ward. Darcy watched them go with some relief, knowing that Steve would take care of Bucky, that Bucky was safe now. She flipped her coin between her fingers, leaving the wretched room and all its evils behind.


	7. Before: Chapter 6

Darcy stared out at the horizon from the roof of the Woolworth Building, unable to shake the memory of recent events from her mind. The things she’d done. The things she’d _almost_ done. She was far too close and far too involved and far, far too invested. She was a reaper, for crying out loud. This was all so far beyond her purview.

But she couldn’t shake the nagging question from her mind - was Bucky okay?

He was with Steve now, ostensibly back with their allies and safely tucked away somewhere to recover from everything that had happened. Soon enough, they’d put him on a boat heading home. He’d be far away from the front, and free to make his own life. He’d find a job, meet someone, start a life.

He would be fine. Especially if she stayed far, far away.

She wondered about Steve though - what exactly had happened to him? And what would become of him now? Surely, they wouldn’t just let him go home too. And even if they would, she knew enough of him to know that he wouldn’t leave the fight, just because he could.

She sighed and rubbed her tired eyes. She also knew enough of Bucky to know that if Steve was staying, he would do everything in his power to stay with him. Which meant it was unlikely there was a boat home in his immediate future.

She groaned at the thought. Stubborn ass. She tried to take comfort in the memory of Sarah’s words - that if they stuck together they would be okay - but it was a false hope. This was war. There were no guarantees. She’d seen enough names on yellow pages to know that much.

But it wasn’t her problem and wasn’t her place to worry. There wasn’t anything she could do anyway. For now he was safe. It was the best she could hope for, given the circumstances.

It was the perfect time to say goodbye.

* * *

Bucky stumbled a little as he left the bar. He glanced over his shoulder and gave a good natured wave to the other guys, who laughed at him. He turned and headed down the street, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he walked. Darcy kept close. She couldn’t be sure exactly how inebriated he actually was - he’d always held his liquor well, and he hadn’t actually had all that much to drink over the course of the evening. She was still a little worried at the way his pace changed at random.

It wasn’t like she could actually do anything if he fell and hit his head, but it made her feel better to keep an eye on him. Soon enough, they reached his home for the night and Darcy breathed a sigh of relief as he let himself through the door. He held it open a little longer and wider than necessary to let himself in, almost as though he were expecting someone to follow. Then he tugged off his jacket and sank onto the mattress of his bunk. He pulled off his shoes, laid down, and closed his eyes.

“You’ve always been there for me,” he mumbled. “Always. For ages now. Even when things were...bad. Especially when things were bad. No matter what I’ve done, how terrible I’ve been.”

Darcy knelt down next to him and ran a hand over his hair. She hated that he even had these thoughts - who could ever think Bucky terrible?

He hummed and smiled a little, then continued his mumbled ramblings. “But...things are so bad now. Do you judge me for the things I’ve done? Do you think less of me now that I’ve killed people? That I’m choosing to stay? I could go home, they told me I could but…” he shrugged. “Steve,” he muttered, as though that explained everything and maybe it did. Darcy certainly understood. His voice trailed off and he shook his head with a sigh. 

She gently brushed the hair away from his eyes. She didn’t know who he was whispering to, but she did know how _she_ would answer. If he could hear her.

“I could never think less of you,” she whispered.

And that was the crux of it, really. Why she hadn’t been able to stay away. Why she never wanted to. No matter how much it was going to hurt in an end that was going to come far too soon.

He smiled, sleepily, his breath evening out as he fell asleep. Darcy allowed herself a moment to fantasize that he’d heard her, that he’d been talking to her all along, and that her reassurances comforted him. That she wasn’t...what she was and that this could be their every day. Their normal. She let her fingertips linger in his hair for one moment longer, then pulled herself away. She felt safe enough, leaving him here, not in a prison or an active warzone, but in a warm, dry bed far from the front lines. 

This was the best goodbye they were going to get. 

Besides, she had work to catch up on, and laundry to do, and maybe she could get some sleep. Maybe she could even track down Maria and they could catch up for a few minutes. She hadn’t seen the other reaper in months. She mentally talled her to do list and considered new spots for sunsets as she made her way to the door.

“You never leave anymore,” Bucky said. “You used to leave all the time. Show up every once in a while. But now you’re here all the time. Or you were. ‘Til Stevie pulled us out that hellhole.”

Darcy halted in her tracks and spun around. Who was he talking to? This wasn’t his usual whispers to himself - this was...something different.

His eyes were open again and he looked right at her. “Not that I’m complaining. I just…” his voice trailed off and he smirked a little, laughing at himself. “Guess maybe I was just wondering if I was ever gonna get your name.”

Darcy looked over her shoulder, wondering if there was actually someone behind her that she hadn’t noticed. But no, he was alone. Except for her.

Which…

“Are you talking to me?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he laughed. “Who else?”

“You can _see me_?” she queaked. It wasn’t her most dignified moment, but she was caught off guard.

Bucky’s smirk softened into a fond smile. “Darlin’ I’ve seen you since that day you showed up at Sarah Rogers’ bedside.”

“But - but -” she sputtered as her mind raced at the implications of that. 

The smile slipped off his face as he sat up. “Was I not supposed to or something?”

“NO!” Darcy yelped. “You’re not supposed to see me at all! You’re not supposed to know I’m here! You’re not supposed to know I _exist_!”

“Oh.” Bucky’s face fell. He went quiet as his gaze moved to his feet. “So...what’s that about?”

“I...I don’t know,” Darcy replied. “Humans aren’t supposed to see us. You’re not supposed to be _able_ to see us. I don’t…” She scrambled for answers, her mind racing, and everything coming up as one big question mark.

A minute ago she was saying goodbye to Bucky and now this. Nothing about this made any sense.

“You didn’t want me to see you?” he asked quietly, sneaking a look at her.

Her heart broke and she was helpless to tell him anything except the truth. “Bucky, I’ve never wanted anything more.”

His answering smile was like the sun peeking out from behind a cloud. He got up and stepped forward with an assured swagger she hadn’t seen him use in months. He grasped her waist and gently pulled her to him, slotting his lips against hers.

_Oh._

Okay. Maybe one thing made sense.

After a few happy moments, Bucky pulled away slightly and began murmuring against her lips.

“God, I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” _Kiss._ “You were the only thing keepin’ me sane in there, you know?” _Kiss._ “My beautiful angel, always lookin’ out for me.” _Kiss._ “I was terrified they’d find you, couldn’t bear the thought of -” He cut himself off, giving her a bruising kiss instead, as though to imprint his protection on her. “They never did though, did they. Clever girl.”

“Bucky,” she breathed.

“My angel got a name?” he asked.

“Darcy,” she said. “My name is Darcy.”

Bucky’s smile lit up her entire world as it took over his face. The stress and the worry melted away from his features as he grinned down at her. “Hello Darcy.”

She practically melted into a puddle of goo at the sound of Bucky saying her name.

“Hi.” She hesitated, not sure what to do or what else to say, now that she was here - somewhere she had never, ever expected to be. How was this even possible? Was it something that happened to every reaper? Why had she never heard of such a thing before?

“You were, uh...you were leavin’,” Bucky murmured. “You got somewhere you need to be?”

“No, I…” Darcy paused, remembering that she had been about to leave and never come back. She mentally waved goodbye to that plan as it waltzed out the window and smiled reassuringly at him. “I thought I’d let you sleep,” she lied.

He gave her a curious look. “But you didn’t know I could see you.”

Whoops. “It...felt like the polite thing to do.”

Bucky laughed. “I’m not much for that these days. So if I asked you to stay?” His smile dimmed a little, still hopeful, but mostly unsure.

Oh, she was in so much trouble. She hesitated, trying to find the right answer, to figure out the right thing to do here. There was no manual for this, no guide. She was just going to have to wing it. She was quiet long enough that his dimming smile slipped further off his face.

“I mean, you don’t-”

“I could stay,” she reassured him.

“Okay,” he said. “Okay. Good. Good then.”

“I mean, you’d have to ask me first,” she teased.

He laughed again and boy, wasn’t that just everything. “Will you stay?”

“Yes, Bucky. I’ll stay.”


	8. Before: Chapter 7

“Talk to me,” Bucky said, pulling her close and pulling the blankets around them. He started every night like this, begging for a story. 

Granted, it was easier for _her_ to talk when there were others around. They couldn’t hear her, after all.

“What do you want me to say?” she asked.

His smile was soft as he nudged her. “Anything you want to tell me.”

“Well there’s no one else here right now, maybe you should do the talking for a little while,” she countered with a smile of her own.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything you want to tell me,” she parroted. 

Bucky grinned and leaned in for a kiss. “There is one thing I’ve been wondering,” he said. “How’d you find me?”

Darcy looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you said that Mrs. Rogers wasn’t actually on your list, right?”

She nodded. “Right. Another reaper asked me to do it.” 

“Remind me to buy that reaper a beer,” Bucky joked as Darcy snuggled further into him in retaliation. “So this other reaper gives you the info and you arrive, taking my breath away while you’re at it. Then what?”

“Then...I took Sarah to her afterlife.” She gave him a confused look. “You know this already.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I meant...after that. I saw you, at the diner.” 

Darcy flushed at the memory. She hadn’t actually _been_ at the diner, had only seen him through the monitor in the SHIELD office. She still hadn’t figured out exactly what had happened there. She could write it off as a fluke, but if Bucky saw her too, then it had to mean something, right?

“...and in front of Steve’s old apartment and lots of other places,” Bucky continued. “How’d you find me when there wasn’t someone on your list in the same room?”

“Oh. I’m not sure, really. When I’m working, I just think of the next name on the list and flip my coin. If I want to go somewhere else, I think of where I want to go. When I wanted to see you…” She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and placed a gentle kiss against the delicate skin there. “I thought about you.”

Bucky cradled her head with his hand, holding her to him with a happy rumble deep in his chest. “Does it work that way for any human?”

“No idea.”

“What do you mean?”

Darcy shrugged. “You’re the only human I’ve ever tried to visit.”

“Wait. Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought...you said…”

Darcy suppressed a laugh. “Did I break you?” 

Bucky laughed at that. “No, I guess I just thought that maybe - I don’t know. That you makin’ time was you...killin’ time.” His face flushed and he shrugged. “You said immortality is boring. I’m happy to help with that.”

She looked up at him. “Bucky, I’m not ‘killing time’ with you.”

An uncharacteristic shadow of uncertainty crossed his face. “You’re not?”

“No.”

His lips twitched into a small smile. “Me either.”

* * *

“Talk to me,” Bucky said as they settled down for another night.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything you want to tell me.”

She was too tired for a story tonight, so she said the first thing that came to mind. “When you’re born, humans have 300 bones. When you die, you’ll probably have 206.”

Bucky grinned. “I’m going to lose bones?”

“Most likely,” Darcy said with a yawn as she curled into his chest and closed her eyes.

“Well how about that.”

* * *

“Talk to me,” Bucky whispered.

Darcy gave him a flat look as he snuggled up to his rifle and peered through the scope.

“Really?” she replied, flatly, not looking up from her perch just above his sniper nest.

He grinned at her tone. “Anything you want to tell me.”

* * *

“Talk to me,” Bucky murmured into her hair. His back was to a tree as he kept watch, but he encouraged her to lean against him instead. She couldn’t decide if he was being a gentleman and saving her from having to use the rough bark as a backrest or if he was just cold and leeching warmth from her.

Joke was on him - the warmth leeching went both ways.

“What do you want me to say?” she grinned.

“Anything you want to tell me.”

“Hot and cold water sound different when being poured,” she shot back.

He frowned. “Really?”

“The temperature changes the viscosity of the water.”

“Huh. Neat.” He went quiet and Darcy waited him out, recognizing the look in his eye. There was something on his mind and if she waited long enough, he’d get around to telling her.

The minutes passed in companionable silence. Darcy leaned her head on his shoulder, a gentle reminder that she was there and she was with him. Finally, he found the words he needed to express what was bothering him.

“Have I ever been the reason someone’s name was on your list?” he whispered.

The question wasn’t unexpected. That didn’t mean Darcy had an answer he would like.

“I don’t tend to think about it like that,” she said. “I don’t really dwell on the circumstances.”

“How can you not? You’ve seen some real shit, I know you have.”

“That’s true,” she said. “And there are things I’ve seen that I prefer not to think about. But death is inevitable.” She shrugged. “And from my perspective, it’s just another thing that happens.”

“Another thing that happens,” he repeated, incredulously.

She smiled. “Think about it. I take a human out of the mortal world and into an afterlife. It’s just a change, like crossing the street. Just like you were born with 300 bones and now you have less than that or how you once lived in New York and now you’re here.”

Bucky thought about that for a moment. “Okay,” he said. “I don’t know if I could ever see it that way, but okay.”

“I’m not sure _you_ are really meant to,” she noted, smiling at him.

Bucky snorted as he stifled a laugh. “Fair enough.” His mirth faded as quickly as it came. “I still don’t like it.”

“You wouldn’t be you if you did.” Darcy hesitated, not sure if she should highlight the point that was obvious to her. “Would it help if I told you that it’s not really up to you?”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

Darcy shrugged. “I get a list every morning. Could be hours before I get to a name.”

He sighed. “So what you’re saying is that it’s all predetermined and no matter what I do, I can’t change it.”

“I probably wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but...yes.”

He nodded. “That doesn’t really help.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Do you make the rules?”

“No.”

“Then angel, you’ve got nothin’ to apologize for.”

* * *

“Talk to me,” Bucky said.

“What do you want me to say?”

“Anything you want to tell me.”

“Pope Gregory IX declared cats to be associated with devil worship, leading to the death of thousands of cats. The resulting boom in the rat population led to the spread of the bubonic plague.”

“I did not know that,” Bucky said. “I like cats.”

Darcy made agreeable noises as she melted into his embrace. She’d just about fallen asleep when Bucky spoke again.

“We could get a cat,” he whispered. 

Darcy was suddenly wide awake. It was only five words, but the picture it painted was so much more than that.

“When this is over,” he continued.

It didn’t matter that they really couldn’t. He was human and she was not and this moment was all they could ever really have. But it was a nice picture, so Darcy let it go and let herself pretend.

“Yeah,” she whispered back. “Yeah, we could.” She nuzzled in a little further, as though the further into his chest she burrowed, the farther she could get from this conversation. “Goodnight Bucky.”

“Goodnight, angel.”


	9. Before: Chapter 8

Darcy closed her eyes and reached out, searching for Bucky’s exact location tonight. She hadn’t been half-bad at this before, had always been able to land roughly in his vicinity, even if it wasn’t always where she’d expected to be. But now, ever since he’d revealed that he could see her, it was like there was a tether between them - a string, tying his wrist to hers. All she had to do was gently tug on that string and there he was.

She hadn’t been lying when she told him that he was the only human she’d ever visited like this. She idly wondered if this was something other reapers knew - was this something they taught STRIKE? Or was this just her?

Or more likely - was this just Bucky?

She pushed the thought away as she tugged on that string in her mind and let it pull her to him. She still took care to land a little ways away - she had startled him more than once by appearing right next to him. He’d had some trouble explaining himself to the colonel and Steve was giving him more and more odd looks these days, so she was careful to be a little more _human_ about it.

Her. A human. The idea would be laughable - if only the promise of a life with Bucky wasn’t so damn appealing.

She landed in a small clearing protected by rock on one side and hidden by the trees on the other and smiled. This would be a quiet night, most likely. If they were lucky.

Darcy crept into Bucky’s tent, careful to keep quiet. The other humans nearby might not be able to see _her_ , but they could most certainly see a tent opening on its own. Despite the close calls when she’d startled Bucky with others nearby, she hadn’t been spotted during any of her visits yet, and she didn’t want to tempt fate further by making it easier to pinpoint her movements.

She could just barely make out Bucky’s eyes shining up at her in the dim light. His face broke into a grin as she silently crawled in next to him. As soon as she was settled, he leaned in for a kiss.

“Hello angel,” he breathed against her lips, quietly enough that he wouldn’t be heard by anyone but her. He didn’t have the advantage of being invisible to everyone else.

“Not an angel,” she reminded him. It was a recurring argument, but had no real heat in it. She’d explained it all to him more than once, but he insisted on maintaining his stance.

“ _My_ angel,” he amended. “I don’t know what the rest of the universe is thinkin’ but to me, you’re my angel.”

“Charmer,” she muttered fondly.

“Steve’s on watch for at least another hour,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”

“Well if Steve’s on watch, you can actually participate in conversation for a little while,” she teased.

He nudged her with his knee as their feet tangled together. “This would have been easier if you’d shown up back when he was still half-deaf.”

She pinched his side and he scrambled to get away, before quickly settling down. They both held their breath as they listened to the dark for any sign that anyone had heard Bucky’s movement.

Darcy didn’t want to think about why anyone might be listening for Bucky’s movements. She’d been present for more than one of his nightmares already. She hated the idea that they were persisting. At least Steve was here when they happened, if she couldn’t be.

His smile didn’t dim as he closed his eyes and pulled her closer with a happy sigh. “Best spot in the world, right here,” he breathed.

She let her maudlin thoughts go and focused on the present. “Oh sure. Rocks for pillows are great.”

His arms tightened around her. “I’ll take this over some fancy hotel in New York, that’s for sure.”

“Oh really?” she said, not believing him for one moment.

He made a tiny gesture that might have been a shrug. “I wouldn’t turn it down, if you were there. But that’s the important part. You’d have to be there. You’re _here_ , so this is the best spot in the world.” He spoke so matter of factly, as though he were reciting some indisputable truth he’d learned long ago.

“You’re ridiculous,” she whispered against his lips before kissing him.

He made a deliriously happy sound. “I am a fool in love,” he agreed.

Darcy felt her breath catch as his eyes bored into hers.

“That okay?” he murmured, tracing tiny patterns into her hip with his thumb.

She nodded. Of course it was okay. It was more than okay.

It was _ludicrous_ , but it was okay.

He stared at her intently. It was the same look of intense concentration he got sometimes when trying to solve a tricky bit of trigonometry in that little notebook of his.

“It’s just...Anything could happen out here,” he whispered, finally finding the words. “Anything. And I need you to know. In case…” He shook his head. “Just in case. I needed you to know.”

Darcy opened her mouth to say something - anything - but she didn’t know what to say, how to respond to his declaration.

That wasn’t entirely true. The words were there. She just couldn’t quite get herself to admit them.

She was reaper. She was immortal.

He was human. And so very, very temporary.

“It’s all bearable because of you, you know. Think I could bear anything, with you.” His smile turned a little sad. “And I don’t need to hear anything back, okay? It’s not a trade. That’s not what this is about. You’re you and you’re perfect and I’m just happy as hell that you’re here.” He brushed another gentle kiss to her lips. “Sleep, yeah? You’ve got long days, you should sleep.”

Darcy huffed a laugh. Her days were busy, sure, but it wasn’t like his were any quieter.

“Good night, angel,” he breathed.

“Good night.”

* * *

Darcy rubbed her eyes as she wandered into the office. She was tired this morning, more so than usual, and it showed. If only coffee worked for reapers the way it did for humans, instead of being toxic. She'd watched Bucky and Steve and other humans gulp down the bitter brew with gusto on more than one occasion, thanking heaven and all the saints for its ability to ward off fatigue. As if heaven or saints actually had anything to do with it.

"Morning Darcy," Maria said. "Wishing for coffee again?"

Darcy grinned, happy to see her friend. "You know it."

Maria sighed. "Same. Although, you know you wouldn't be so worn out all the time if you didn't stay out so late."

Darcy didn’t reply immediately, worried what Maria would see on her face if she did. She could try insisting that everyone was tired these days, but she wasn’t sure her argument would carry much weight. 

Darcy knew that her attachment to Bucky was _insane_. She knew that Maria would have opinions about it if she ever inferred a fraction of what had happened. If Maria ever found out the whole story? _All_ of it, including Lohmer and everything else? No number of favors owed would keep Maria from reporting it to Phil. Probably.

So Darcy changed the subject.

“How’s the new job? Still loving logistics?” she asked. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in an age.”

Maria gave her an odd look. “It hasn’t been that long.”

Darcy shrugged. “Just feels like it, with how busy we’ve all been lately.”

Maria shook her head. “You spend too much time with the humans. Their dramatics are rubbing off on you.”

Darcy shifted uneasily. Maria didn’t know the half of it. "I like the humans. And they are, you know, my job. My life's work. My actual, literal reason for existence."

Maria smiled, knowingly. "They are also - occasionally - nice to look at."

Darcy sighed in defeat, allowing herself to admit to her friend one tiny piece of what had been weighing on her for so long. "And funny. And protective. And kind of a dumb ass."

“That’s...specific,” Maria said, her expression blank. “Is there one human in particular we’re talking about?” 

“No!” Darcy replied a little too quickly, then tried to laugh it off. "Come on, you know better than that. How old are you now?"

"Not as old as you," Maria teased.

Darcy groaned. "Change of subject please."

"Alright, alright. You get today's list yet?"

“No, not yet. I was just heading that way.”

Maria gestured to the desk. “If the humans keep insisting on these ridiculous wars, we’re never going to get a break.”

“Were we going to get one without a war?” Darcy asked without thinking.

“Fair,” Maria conceded. “Maybe when this is all over it will feel like one.”

They joined the line, stepping in place behind a reaper Darcy didn’t recognize.

“Does it ever bother you?” Darcy asked.

“Does what ever bother me?”

“Not getting a break.”

Maria considered the question, staring straight ahead for a few moments before turning back to Darcy. “I don’t think I’d know what to do with one if I had it.”

“You’d find something. Or sleep for a week, that could be good too.”

Maria laughed. “Sleep would be nice.”

“Yes it would,” Darcy agreed and desperately hoped that where she’d been sleeping recently wasn’t somehow written all over her face. She didn’t think Maria - or anyone else - would think very highly of her activities. “It would be nice to have time to get a life.”

Maria gave her a curious look. “We’re not...alive though.”

Darcy gave her the same look right back. “Aren’t we?”

Whatever Maria might have said in reply was cut off by the reaper in front of them. “Don’t ask me. I was literally born yesterday.”

Maria smiled at the reaper, polite and bland. “So you’re the new reaper. Welcome. What’s your name?”

He smiled back. It was nervous and unpracticed. “Bob.”

“Hiya Bob,” Darcy said, then looked around. “Who are you working with?”

“Um…” Bob looked away. “I’m not, I don’t think?”

“What? That can’t be right. Every new reaper follows someone for a bit. Usually it’s the last new reaper, which in this case would be...” Darcy trailed off, realization dawning.

Maria shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been busy,” she muttered. “Sorry Bob.”

Darcy refrained from voicing her thoughts aloud. It wasn’t like she was a model reaper either.

“Oh no, it’s okay, I can just...um…” Bob looked at the desk, his eyes a little wide with uncertainty.

“Bob,” Darcy said kindly, drawing his attention back to her and hopefully thwarting whatever anxiety attack Bob was about to endure. He was certainly a skittish one, for only being a day old. “Take the day off. I’ll take you around tomorrow, okay?”

Bob’s eyes lit up. “That would be great! Thank you!” He jumped out of line, his smile growing as he headed for the door.

Darcy frowned as she watched him go. “I probably should have given him directions to Reaper City, huh?”

“Thanks Darcy,” Maria said quietly. “I hadn’t heard that there was a new reaper.” She shook her head. “Or maybe I did and just forgot.”

“We all make mistakes Maria,” Darcy said, trying desperately not to think of her own. Everything had seemingly worked out, but the memory haunted her.

Maria looked like she wanted to say more, but the attendant at the desk calling for the next in line. With one last, indecipherable look at Darcy, Maria stepped up to the desk and received her list. She scanned it, quickly, then looked back to Darcy.

“Gotta go. I have an assignment in a few minutes.” A tiny, concerned crease formed between her eyes. “Let’s...catch up later, yeah?”

Darcy nodded. “Sure.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too!” Darcy stepped up to the desk and took her list. She skimmed it quickly, the names blurring together. She flipped through the pages in the back. Mostly white pages today, thank goodness, only a few yellows and one stupid blue page.

Darcy groaned internally at the blue page as she stepped away from the desk and out of the way of the other reapers. She flipped through her pages with a little more care, scanning for the pertinent details and rearranging the pages that were somehow out of order. Clearly, someone handing out the assignments couldn’t tell time.

White page. White page. White page.

Old age. Train accident. Influenza.

Yellow. War. Yellow. War.

Finally, she got to the blue page.

“Train accident?” she muttered. Train accidents were the worst, in her opinion, but it should still only be a white page, why would it…

She read the details a little closer. Wartime train accident. Okay, that would get a yellow page.

Finally, she got down to the bottom of the page, where the personal details of the human were listed.

No.

No no no no no.

A fat tear escaped her eye and dripped onto the pale blue page, smearing the neat black type, dispassionately giving her a name.

James Buchanan Barnes.

“Bucky.”


	10. Before: Chapter 9

Darcy stood at the bottom of a ravine, waiting. Normally, she looked forward to it, finishing her day, because that meant that she could go to Bucky. She’d join him wherever he was and they’d spend their off hours whispering together in the dark. They’d fall asleep, so tangled up in each other that she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. 

_“Bucky! Hold on!”_

But they’d never get to do any of that ever again.

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes briefly before forcing herself to look up. Forced herself to watch.

The railing gave way and ripped free of the gaping compartment. Steve lunged after his friend but was just a moment too late. Two screams echoed through the ravine as the train sped away, taking Steve Rogers with it. 

Darcy couldn’t bring herself to scream. She could only watch as Bucky fell.

When it was over, she carefully picked her way around the rocks in the snow and made her way to him. He was still alive, clinging to life, but only just. She knelt down at his side as he slowly dragged his eyes open to look at her. Even now, this close to death, he was beautiful. He had always been beautiful, her favorite human, from the moment she first saw him until now, the moment of his death. The world would be that much less bright for the loss of him. 

“Hello angel,” he murmured, his eyes opening just a crack. “My beautiful angel.”

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Silly question, given it’s you. Given...where we are. How I feel. Am I dead?”

“No, love,” she croaked.

“Oh.” A tiny suggestion of a smile pulled at his lips. “I like the sound of that.”

Darcy coughed, choking back a sob. “Not being dead?”

“You callin’ me your love. We woulda been the tops, you and me. I’da been proud to go around town with you on my arm.”

“Yeah,” she said. Darcy didn’t know what else to say. Nothing in her long existence had ever prepared her for this. Prepared her for him.

“This it then?” he slurred. “The end?”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“Don’t be. ‘Syou. Wouldn’t want it any other way.” He coughed. “Shoulda known, when I didn’t see you all day.”

“I’m sorry,” she started. “I should have-”

“Don’t be, angel. Don’t be.” His lips twitched again into something resembling a smile. “Guess we can take that walk you told me about.”

Darcy nodded. Bad Times declaration be damned - there was no way she was letting him navigate to his afterlife on his own.

“Can we take the long way?” he whispered. “Can’t imagine I’m goin’ anywhere nice.”

Darcy paused. She had no idea what afterlife Bucky was meant for - and wouldn’t, not until she pulled him from his mortal life. Not that it mattered where he was _supposed_ to go - if it wasn’t somewhere that he deserved, she wouldn’t send him there. Period. Maria owed her about a billion favors at this point and Sarah had probably befriended Pietro by now - between the four of them, Darcy could definitely slip Bucky in there if she had to.

“As long as you like,” Darcy promised. “Whatever you want.”

“‘Snot a promise you can keep,” Bucky argued, “because what I want is forever.”

“I could give it a shot,” Darcy replied, weakly.

He reached for her, only to suddenly stop as he realized what had happened. Why Darcy was on his right side. The breath punched out of him as he took in the sight and attempted to process the loss with the little time he had left.

Darcy could feel the moment drawing closer. No more putting it off. No amount of wishing would change it. Another breath rattled in his chest and it felt like a dagger to her own heart. This beautiful boy was going to die, alone and cold in the snow, so very far from everyone who had ever loved him.

Everyone except her.

She could admit it now, here at the end. She loved him. She would always love him. He was human and he was temporary, but he would forever live on in her because she was immortal and _an idiot_ who had fallen in love with him.

She reached out to take his hand.

“Bucky,” she whispered. “It’s time.”

“At least you’re here then. At the end. So I could see you one more time.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. She couldn’t remember ever crying before, not really, not until his name showed up on her list and it was a wholly unfamiliar feeling. He was just a whole host of firsts for her. 

“Now now, angel. Don’t waste your tears on me.”

“There’s no one more worthy,” she replied. The honesty slipped from her lips without her permission.

His smile grew a little bigger as the light dimmed from his eyes. “There you go, bein’ all sweet. A kindness to this ol’ soldier at the end.”

His words burned in her chest. This shouldn’t be the end. She didn’t _want_ this to be the end. 

Why did this have to be the end?

She would reach out, touch his hand, and that would be that. He would be gone and she would be reassigned. Shuffled on to the next name on her list, as if he didn’t matter. As if he wasn’t absolutely everything.

But nothing would ever be the same. She’d watched over countless souls in her long existence. No one had ever been quite like this one. No one else ever would be. She couldn’t see the future, but she knew that fact as though it were etched into her very bones. If reapers had souls, hers would match his. She just knew it.

“I shoulda said somethin’ sooner,” he slurred, his eyes drooping. “Maybe things coulda been different.”

“No, no,” she sobbed. “Don’t say that. You’re perfect.”

“No. No, not me. You though. You are. Darcy.” He reached out and wiped the tears from her cheek. His fingers were warm and shaking and she leaned into them. “My Darcy.” He tried to smile. “Maybe in my next life, huh? You’ll find me again?” He brushed his thumb against her cheek again. “I love you.”

The ground was ripped out from under her as suddenly up and down and the whole world was set into a spin. She reached out to grab something - anything. Her fingers snagged on something metal and she clung, but there was a snap and suddenly she was falling again.

After what felt like hours, she finally rolled to a stop. Glancing up, she realized she had somehow fallen further down the ravine and was probably a good 100 feet below where Bucky was laying in the snow. 

“Great,” she muttered. She pulled her coin from her pocket and flipped it, rematerializing right back where she’d left Bucky.

Or where she thought she’d left Bucky.

There were broken branches and signs of...something. The snow was a mess, packed down where Bucky had fallen and bloody from his injuries. 

But no Bucky. 

She looked around frantically. It wasn’t like he was in any condition to get up and leave on his own, but she didn’t see anyone or anything that could have moved him either. There weren’t even drag marks or tracks or any type of trail she could follow.

She flipped her coin again, clinging desperately to Bucky’s memory, begging to be wherever he was.

She didn’t move.

She closed her eyes and concentrated. She hadn’t accidentally sent him on, she could tell that much. He was still alive. But where he was right now was a mystery.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. James Barnes was supposed to die here. But she’d stalled and now it was too late. Someone - or something - else had taken him and he was _gone_.

She finally looked down at the metal still in her hand, examining whatever she’d grabbed in her desperate attempt to stop her fall. Somehow, she’d managed to rip Bucky’s dog tags from him. She clutched them, holding them closed and brushing her thumb over the stamped letters of his name. 

_James Buchanan Barnes._

What had she done?


	11. Before: Chapter 10

“Darcy!” Maria barked as Darcy stumbled into the SHIELD office, still a little shocked. “What in all of eternity happened?” 

“I...I don’t…” Darcy couldn’t get the words out. She’d come straight here from the ravine, hoping against all hope that someone would know what had happened. Clearly that wasn’t the case.

“Darcy,” a calm voice said. Darcy turned around to find Phil looking at her with a blank expression on his face. 

She felt her stomach lurch. If Phil was involved, she could probably kiss all of her hopes of quickly finding Bucky and fixing everything goodbye.

She glanced at Maria and steeled her courage. If she was honest and forthright with them, maybe between the three of them they could fix this. “Hi Phil.”

“Let’s take a walk,” he said, then motioned at Maria. “You too.”

Darcy made to follow him when a mean voice rang out across the floor. “REAPER!” he screamed. She turned back to find Brock advancing on her quickly. It took everything she had not to stumble back a step at the enraged look on his face.

“What the fuck have you done?” Brock snarled, getting in her face.

“Darcy falls under my purview, Brock,” Phil said, stoic as ever. “Kindly back away.”

“Darcy, huh?” Brock sneered, barely acknowledging Phil and not taking his eyes off Darcy. She did her best not to fidget under his glare. “Worthless,” he hissed. “Can’t even handle a mundane op without screwing it up.”

“I’ve been doing this job for 300 years longer than you’ve _existed_ ,” Darcy snapped back. 

“Oh yeah?” Brock replied. “And what do you have to show for it?”

Maria’s gaze flicked from Darcy to Brock as Phil moved to place himself between them.

“Step away, please,” Phil said, calm as ever.

“Do you know what she’s done?” Brock said.

“I would have thought a small issue with a mundane case would have been beneath the notice of STRIKE,” Phil replied.

Brock ground his teeth so hard, Darcy would have sworn she heard at least one of his molars shatter. “I don’t have time for this,” he growled.

“We’ll leave you to it then.” Phil looked at Maria. “Let’s go.” With that, he turned and continued towards his office, not looking back to see if Maria or Darcy were following.

“Run along, little reaper,” Brock taunted as Darcy walked away, “while the rest of us clean up your mess.”

Darcy tried to shake off the unease Brock inspired in the few seconds it took to reach Phil’s office. She wasn’t very successful. As Phil closed the door, Darcy tried to think only of Bucky - he was her mission now. She had to make this right.

“What happened out there, Darcy?” Maria said, crossing her arms across her chest as she stood in the corner. Phil perched on the side of his desk, leaning against it.

“I don’t know,” she muttered. “It all went wrong.”

Phil looked at her kindly. “Walk me through it.”

She hid her face in her hands and rubbed her tired eyes. “He was the last name on my roster today. James Barnes. He...he fell. I went to him. And…”

“And? That should have been that.”

She reached into her pocket and ran her fingers over Bucky’s dog tags. “He could see me,” she whispered.

Phil blinked, then gave Maria a strange look, the first real reaction she’d drawn from him since she had shown up in the office. “What do you mean, he could see you?”

Darcy hesitated, unsure of exactly how much to tell them or how much they already knew. She figured it was best to keep it simple. “He spoke to me,” she replied. It was true, after all. Bucky had spoken to her in the ravine.

Phil shook his head and turned, looking at an array of maps strewn across his desk. “Plenty of mortals speak when they’re dying. It’s all nonsense. You know that.”

“We had a conversation, Phil,” she argued. If she was ever going to get answers about any of this, if she was ever going to find Bucky, this was her opportunity. “It wasn’t incoherence. It wasn’t him asking for his mother or mumbling about his friend or anything else. He _spoke_ _to me_.”

“What did he say?” Maria asked.

“He…” Darcy swallowed hard, considering how much to tell them. Phil was her boss, technically, as much as she had one. But she clung to the memory, all of their memories, desperately wanting to keep them just for herself.

She’d never had anything of her own before.

But this was for Bucky. The more they knew, the more they could help her, so she could help him.

“He asked if we could take the long way,” she said, skirting the enormity of the truth. “Called me angel.”

Maria snorted and Phil’s lips twitched in amusement, but Darcy’s glare silenced them before anyone could make the joke. 

“He was taken,” she whispered. “I know it. Just as I was about to pull him from his mortal life, I was suddenly sent spinning further down the ravine. When I got back to him, he was gone. And now I can’t...I can’t feel him. That’s never happened before. I’ve _always_ been able to feel him.” At Maria’s sharp look, she amended, “Any human. We can always tell, when they’re on our list, right? We think of their name, flip our coin, and there we are?”

Phil sighed and straightened up, moving to look at the board outside his office window. It was huge - taking up the entire width of the floor below and standing three stories tall. There were tiny pinpricks of light all over the board in various colors. Darcy had never learned how to read the specifics of the map - she received her list, all those packets of white pages, and she’d never bothered with the intricacies of the bigger picture. It had never seemed necessary - but now she wished she understood why a lot of the lights were flashing from white to orange or yellow to green.

“Tell me about the file,” Maria said, her eyes on Phil, even if the question was directed to Darcy.

“The...file?”

“You got his name this morning, right? When we picked up our rosters?”

“Oh. Yeah. It was odd. I only work mundane cases, you know that.” Darcy shook her head. “White pages only, up until this war started, then a mix of whites and yellows. But this one, it was different. James Barnes’ page was blue.”

The silence fell heavy in the room. Maria stared at Phil, who continued staring out at the board outside his window.

“What does a blue page mean?” Darcy asked.

“My best guess is that whoever took this guy is somehow keeping him in a state between life and death,” Phil said, instead of answering her question. “That’s why you can’t sense him.”

“What?” she asked. “How? Why?”

“He’s being kept for something.” He nodded to the office floor outside. “Something that has caused a lot of commotion down in maps and planning.”

Darcy’s stomach dropped. Maps and planning knew when every mortal needed an escort from their world to the next. They were who Darcy was referring to when she told Bucky that it wasn’t really up to her or to him. And if maps and planning was in chaos, then…

Suddenly, the board rippled and shouting could be heard from the office floor. Red dots appeared all over the board and agents rushed to the exits.

“This is bad, Darcy,” Maria said, quietly.

“We have to find him,” Darcy whispered. “If I...If I take him, it will fix this. Right?”

And she would. She’d find him, she’d send him on his way, no matter what it took. They wouldn’t get that walk to his afterlife, there would be no taking of the long way, but anything was better than this.

Phil stared out at the map, his dispassionate expression belied by the slight tremor in his voice. “I think we’re a little past that now.”

* * *

Phil was right - they were way past Darcy’s ability to fix. He laid a small replica of the new map across his desk, then crossed his arms over his chest.

“This is bad.”

Phil had a talent for understatement.

Darcy stared at the map in disbelief. “How can one mortal change everything so much? I mean, I know that we know he’s somehow being held outside of our reach, but even so. One person shouldn’t have this kind of impact.”

Phil’s eyes flicked to her, then Maria, but he didn’t answer her question directly. It was getting annoying.

“We’re reassigning agents as fast as we can, but we’re not prepared for this. It’s going to be chaos for a while.”

“Agents?” she repeated.

“Reapers,” Maria clarified with a shrug. “We’ve been testing out a new organizational structure. It’s a work in progress.”

Darcy didn’t know what to think about that so she didn’t. She knew she should be focusing on the bigger picture, the fact that Phil was showing her a written record of a whole new level of Bad Times, declaring an emergency without actually saying it. But she couldn’t take her eyes off of the tiny little line on the map that represented the life of James Barnes. The line that should have stopped a handful of hours ago. A line that now continued much further than it ever conceivably should - and also crossed with far too many endpoints of other little lines.

That really could only mean one thing.

“The mortals that took him,” she said tonelessly, “they’re going to use him to change everything. Aren’t they.”

Phil glanced at her, his eyes softening a little at the distress on her face. “Yes.”

Darcy closed her eyes to the pain. She had done this. She had hesitated, indulged herself for one moment - and screwed up so badly the entire world was going to suffer. 

Bucky was going to suffer. And she didn’t need to understand the complexities of the map to know that.

“Now what?” she asked.

Maria gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re still tethered to him,” she said. “Your assignment isn’t complete.”

Darcy looked at Phil sharply. “But-”

“It’s the way it works, Darcy,” Phil reminded gently. “And we’re going to be short handed as it is. We’ve _been_ short handed for the entirety of this damn war the mortals insisted on.” He leaned against the desk. “You are going to have to claim every mortal that he kills.”

Darcy looked back to the map in horror. “But…”

“But nothing.”

“There’s got to be someone else - some team, some specialized group,” Darcy insisted. “You’re reorganizing everything, there’s gotta be someone, right?” she asked Maria. “Some of those endpoints are lit up in colors I’m not trained in. I’m not -”

“All reassigned. It’s the only way we can cover,” Phil gestured uselessly to the map, “all of this.”

Darcy’s breath hitched as her eyes followed Bucky’s newly extended line on the map. She tried not to count how many endpoints there were along it.

“So many…”

“I’m sorry.” Maria sounded genuine, but the platitude still rang hollow.

Her eyes fell on one endpoint in particular and her would swear her heart stopped. If that was a thing reaper hearts did. “Steven Rogers...I know that name. That was...he was on the train when Bu-when _Barnes_ fell. They’re friends, I think. He’s famous, right? I thought-”

“Reassigned,” Maria interrupted. 

“He won’t die on the plane, as originally thought,” Phil added, although Darcy had no idea what plane he was referring to. Clearly Phil had knowledge about Steve Rogers that Darcy wasn’t privy to. She wondered what else Phil knew that he wasn’t sharing.

“I’m looking after him myself,” Phil continued.

If Darcy didn’t know better, she would think Phil sounded almost pleased about that. If it were any other circumstance, she would have teased him about it. She asked the more prudent question instead. “ _You_? You’re going back out in the field?”

Phil almost smiled. “We’re going to be shorthanded,” he said sadly.

Darcy looked back at the map. “And Bucky will be the one responsible for ending Steve’s life.”

“Looks that way.”

Darcy felt her heart break. “If he ever realizes...it’ll destroy him.” She watched as Maria rolled up the map, the tiny print of Steve’s name the last thing she saw before the map was put away entirely.

“Wait,” Darcy said, a thought occurring to her. “We have the map. Even if I can’t tell where he is right now, couldn’t I just show up at the first point on the map and wait for him? That would fix things, right? Stop them from getting any worse?”

Phil looked to Maria, who shrugged. “The maps change all the time. It’s more a long term projection - like the mortals do with the weather. It gets more accurate the closer you are in time.”

“It’s going to be my job to watch that map pretty closely as it is,” Darcy replied. “Could it hurt to try?”

“Just so we’re clear,” Maria said, “you’re volunteering to monitor the map to predict where one specific mortal might appear? That’s really advanced work, Darcy. I’m not sure anyone has ever done that kind of calculation before.”

“I can do it,” Darcy insisted. “Give me a couple of hours with a reference book and I know I can do it.” A few hours with a reference book and a miracle would be more accurate, but Darcy wasn’t going to mention that. This was for Bucky - she’d make it work.

She turned to Phil, suddenly desperate. This could be her only chance to save Bucky from the fate she saw laid out on that cursed map and she needed him to understand. “Please,” she begged. “I know I’ve never shown much ambition or anything before, but that’s because I _liked_ the mundane cases. Let me try.”

Phil stared at Darcy for a long moment, the air tense as he considered. Darcy's mind scrambled to find a new tactic, to come up with some other reasoning to convince Phil to let her try to save Bucky. It didn’t matter how advanced the work, how hard it was going to be - Darcy was determined to make it happen. If it would save Bucky, she would make it happen.

“I can do this, Phil,” Darcy promised. “Let me try.”

He nodded. “Okay, Darcy. Let’s try.”


	12. Interlude

Bob bounced on the balls of his feet and tried not to look around too anxiously. He double checked his location for the sixth time that hour. He was positive he was in the right place. But maybe he’d somehow gotten it wrong or maybe he’d gotten the times mixed up? Maybe he was early. 

Maybe he wouldn’t be such a nervous wreck if he were more than a few days old.

At the sound of a door opening, Bob spun around. He knew Darcy would come! She wouldn’t just leave him.

But the reaper walking through the door wasn’t Darcy. Bob quickly turned away, looking back out at the skyline and tried to will himself invisible. He didn’t know this reaper and something in him was trembling in fear.

“You’re the new reaper, right?”

Bob turned to look at the new arrival. “That’s me,” he replied, cursing his voice for trembling.

“What are you doing up here?”

“Oh um. Am I not supposed to be up here? I’m waiting for someone, I thought-”

“Relax, reaper. You can be here. Just making conversation.” The other reaper stuffed his hands in his pockets and attempted to adopt a casual air. It didn’t really work. “Who are you waiting for?”

“Um. Darcy.” Bob shifted, uneasily. “She was going to take me around.”

The reaper moved to look out at the skyline, obscuring part of his face from Bob’s view. That was fine with Bob - the other reaper’s gaze was a little unsettling. 

“Darcy, huh. Well, hate to break the news to you, buddy, but you got duped. Darcy’s not going to show.”

“Oh.” That didn’t sound quite right. Darcy had been friendly enough when they met, and it wasn’t like she _had_ to offer to show him the ropes. Then again, he had been standing up here waiting for her for quite some time. 

He was only two days old - he probably wasn’t the best judge of character. Maybe the people who made you feel good weren’t to be trusted and the ones that inspired terror were better.

Bob snuck a peek at the other reaper. If that was the way of things, things sucked.

“She’s bad news, really,” the other reaper continued. “She’s mixed up in some pretty awful stuff. Behavior unbecoming a reaper, for sure. I’d stay away, if I were you.” The reaper turned back to face Bob fully. “I’d hate to see you get dragged down with her.”

“Oh,” Bob said again. The other reaper’s words were concerning and the tone was vaguely threatening. Bob didn’t know what to make of that, so he tried to end the conversation as quickly as he could. “Oh my. Well. Thanks, I guess. For the warning.”

“No problem.” The other reaper considered him for a moment, then asked, “What’s your name?” 

“Bob,” he replied. “My name is Bob.”

“Hi Bob,” the reaper said with an unsettling grin. “I’m Brock.”

“Nice to meet you,” Bob replied, his manners automatic, even if he wasn’t enthusiastic about it. 

“Tell you what, Bob,” Brock said. “How about you stick with me? I’ll teach you everything you need to know. All about being a reaper. About the _power_ of a reaper. What do you say?”

Brock held out a hand. Bob glanced down at it, briefly, considering his options.

Who was he kidding. He had no options.

He reached out and shook Brock’s hand. “That sounds good. Thanks.”

“That’s a good decision, Bob. You’ll do well. I can tell.” Brock grinned at him, baring his teeth like a shark. 

“Welcome to HYDRA.”


	13. After: Chapter 11

### 

After

_Philadelphia. 11990 HE. (or 1990, if you’re just asking someone on the street.)_

Darcy scratched out yet another equation into her notebook as she paced in the alley, wrinkling her nose and trying to ignore the smell. It wasn’t so much that she was unsure of her math - she’d been working these things out long enough by now that she could do it in her sleep, and often did - but it was a way to occupy her hands and mind while she waited.

It was better than fixating on the smell. It was better than a New York summer, for sure, but Philadelphia wasn’t her favorite place most days, let alone a Philly alley. The only redeeming thing about the city lately was the pretzels. And maybe that they finally got a hockey team. 

Maybe.

Maybe it would be better just to think about the pretzels. Darcy imagined her stomach growling and wondered what that felt like. Strange the things about humanity and mortality that one fixates on.

She physically shook herself to try to get her mind back on task. It had been almost fifty years since James Barnes had been taken from her. Fifty years of hunching over maps and working out equations. Fifty years of near misses and close calls, but never getting close enough to get her hands on him and send him to his afterlife. Fifty years of sending all of his victims onto their afterlives - people who had their lives cut short by an unwitting tool wielded by the whims of an unaccountable evil. 

If Bucky ever woke up from this, he would hate himself.

Darcy would carry the guilt in the meantime. And likely a very long while after. 

Reapers had exceptionally long lifespans with memories to match, after all. Darcy had the rest of eternity to hate herself.

_Focus. You’re no good to him distracted._

_I wasn’t any good to him when I was on task either._

Darcy mentally groaned. This wasn’t helping. She’d had a breakthrough that morning and had finally gotten her first solid lead on Bucky in almost fifty years. She couldn’t afford to waste it. 

When she had proposed this arrangement to Phil all those years ago, she had never imagined it would take this long to track Bucky down. Whoever had him was _good_ , especially given that they had no idea she existed, let alone that she was hunting them. 

But finally, she was ahead of the curve. This wasn’t a ping on a map with 10 minutes to spare. She had redone the numbers a hundred times by now and had a good, solid location on him for once. If she played this right, she could grab him and send him on, easy as falling asleep.

If she didn’t, well.

She didn’t want to think about that.

It wasn’t like she didn’t dream about every time she failed him every time she closed her eyes anyway. When she did sleep.

Which was mostly why she didn’t.

She checked her watch. If her numbers were correct, he’d be passing by soon. If she was quick, that would be that. Her mistake fixed.

And her world that much darker.

She pushed the thought away and peeked around the corner. There was a van parked nearby that was raising her hackles just a touch. Something wasn’t quite right.

“Darcy.”

“Sonofa-” Darcy jumped and flattened herself against the wall. “Don’t _do_ that.”

Bob smiled at her. “Sorry,” he said, somehow always nervous around her after all these years.

“Liar,” she tried to tease, then bit back a sigh at his startled expression. One of these days, she would get him to partake in a little banter. “You’ve never been sorry a day in your existence.”

“Well that’s not true, I-”

Today, clearly, was not that day.

“I’m kidding, Bob,” Darcy interrupted before he could really get going. “What’s up?”

He motioned toward the street. “How is it looking?”

She gave him a suspicious look. “You checking up on me? I’ve been doing this way longer than you, you know.”

Bob shifted nervously. “I’m here in a support capacity, Darcy.”

“Yeah yeah.” Darcy looked back at the van, then checked her watch again. Any minute now. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

“Actually,” Bob said. “I’m here to warn you. The map changed again.”

Darcy snapped around to look at him. “What? How? My calculations are right, I know they are.”

Bob shrugged. “I just go where they tell me.”

“Okay,” Darcy replied warily. “But I didn’t _do_ anything yet, it can’t be-”

“James Barnes can’t die today.”

Darcy grabbed Bob and moved him away from the corner, pushing him into the wall. “Explain,” she snarled.

“Um,” Bob yelped. “They just - they told me -”

“Who?” she barked. “Who told you?”

Bob hesitated.

“WHO?” she yelled.

“Maps and planning?” Bob replied. The answer was clearly designed to make her pause. 

“Who in maps and planning?” she pushed. “This is the best lead I’ve gotten on Barnes in almost _fifty years_. I’m not throwing it away just because somebody upstairs is a little too comfy with the status quo.”

“I don’t know, okay?” Bob wailed. “The note to come and tell you was included in my roster!”

Darcy sighed and let go of Bob. That answer was not helpful.

“Do you know _why_ Barnes can’t die today?”

Bob shook his head. 

“Do you have the new map?”

Bob handed it over. Darcy skimmed it, trying to decipher the map as quickly as possible.

The longer she was at it, the more she really hated this job.

If there was any kind of an out for a reaper, Darcy was pretty sure she’d give anything to take it.

* * *

He peered through the scope, cooly assessing the scene in front of him. 

“Permission to take the shot?” he murmured.

“ _Hold_.”

He remained perfectly still, awaiting further instructions. He mentally re-ran the mission parameters.

Infiltrate the sewer system.

Install the explosives.

Establish position to protect explosives from interference from law enforcement.

“ _Return to rendezvous._ ”

“Acknowledged.” He quickly broke down his equipment and eliminated any trace of his ever having made a nest there. He crept through the grungy passageways like a shadow, taking care not to be seen. He slipped onto the street, head down, hands shoved in his pockets. 

“BUCKY!”

He stumbled slightly then continued walking, picking up his pace just enough. Whoever was yelling was simply a distraction. He pushed it out of his mind.

“BUCKY!”

The voice was closer now. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a woman hurrying in his direction. His fingers itched for a knife, but he held back. She wasn’t yelling for him, wasn’t chasing after him. It wouldn’t do to stab a random civilian in the middle of the street for no apparent reason.

“Ugh, stop being a stubborn ass and just stop, would you?”

_“Stop being a stubborn ass and take the grace that’s offered.”_

He slowed his pace as the unbidden memory resurfaced. He didn’t have context for the strange thought. But there was something…

He glanced back at her again. She was close now, maybe only a few strides behind him. Now that he had a clear view of her face, she looked familiar too. 

He felt panic rise in his chest. Who was this girl? Where were his handlers? If they caught wind of someone recognizing him, regardless of _who_ they were or _why_ they did, his handlers would eliminate them with ruthless efficacy.

He slowed to a stop and turned back, going against everything they’d ever programmed into him. He had to warn her,mget her to go away, something.

“Bucky,” she said, her voice tinged with relief as she finally caught up to him. “I found you.” Her fingertips brushed the sleeve of his jacket and -

_BOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM_

The bomb went off, the concussive blast sending him flying off his feet into the side of a building. 

His ears were ringing. He couldn’t see. There was a brief moment of panic in his disorientation, the world swimming around him, nothing making any sense.

The cars were wrong, the building was wrong, his clothes were wrong. Everything was hot and on fire and where the hell was Steve?

He pulled himself upright, fighting back the nausea. A woman was collapsed next to him. He reached out to her, to see if she was all right. He brushed the hair away from her face as her eyes fluttered open.

 _Darcy_.

“Buck...y,” she croaked, reaching for his hand. 

He grasped her hand in his. “Darcy? What the hell are you doing here? Where are we? What -” He stopped suddenly as he caught sight of his own hands.

Or rather - one of his hands and one...not his hand.

“I don’t...what?” Tears welled up in his eyes as he tried to fight through the confusion. What was real? What had happened? Was this yet another nightmare?

If he was going to wake up, he would really prefer to do it any second now.

“Bucky,” Darcy said, pulling herself upright. “It’s okay. I mean, everything sucks, but it’s fine. It’s all going to be fine.”

He looked at the ground and found a remote detonator. He looked around, taking in the destruction and chaos surrounding them.

“Did I do this?” he whispered.

“No, Bucky. No.” Darcy was insistent as she smoothed back his too long hair, lightly scratching her fingers against his scalp. The motion was soothing, the familiar act calming him.“This wasn’t you.”

He thought back, sifting through fractured memories. Too many memories. How long had he been like this? His head was aching and all he wanted was to curl up and go to sleep. He fought through and suddenly remembered syncing the bomb timer to the device in his hand.

“I think I did,” he said, his stomach lurching.

“Bucky-”

He launched himself to his feet and scrambled away from her. “Stay away from me. I don’t want to hurt you.” He choked a little. “I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

“Darcy - how are you here?”

“Uh…”

“Darcy,” Bucky repeated. “The last thing I remember - as me, as _really_ me - was saying goodbye to you. I was dying. We were saying goodbye.”

Darcy blinked. “That’s - well. Um.”

“Am I...well, I can’t be like you.” He shook his head, forcing back the bile that came along with the memories that flooded him, threatening to pull him under. “You don’t do this, I know you don’t. But I’m...not me. Not anymore.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You don’t have to do any of it anymore.” Darcy blinked back tears. “I’m just glad I got to see you. To talk to you. Before…” She hiccuped. “It’s been so long,” she whispered.

“How long?”

She shook her head.

“How long, Darcy?” He demanded. 

“It’s...uh, it’s 1990. As you would know it.”

“Forty-five years.”

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.”

He scoffed. 

“I have an idea, but I don’t know for sure. But I can put an end to this, all of it. Right now.” She held out her hand. “We can take the long way, I promise.”

He hesitated then reached for her hand and gently squeezed it.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“How?” He choked in disbelief. “I don’t remember everything, but I remember enough. How could you possibly-“

“Always will,” she replied. “No matter what.”

He looked at her, soaking up the lovely image of his angel, desperately hoping that this memory would sustain him. Wherever he was going.

A van screamed around the corner and screeched to a stop. Two men jumped out of the side and lunged at him.

“NO!” Darcy screamed.

He struggled against their grip, but one of them attached something to his arm, making it unresponsive and dead weight at his side. He kicked out with his legs, but they dragged him into the van.

“NO!” Darcy screamed again.

He felt his head crack against the side of the van as they threw him inside. He heard the slide of the door and the van accelerate and then…

Everything faded as unconsciousness took him.


	14. After: Chapter 12

Darcy wiped her futile tears away as she slowly climbed to her feet. Bucky was gone, whisked away, likely by the same people who had stolen him from her over and over and over again again.

It was an old dance, and frankly she was tired of it. It was time to get some answers.

She pulled out her communications device and considered the button, Maria having done away with the old coin system decades ago. Darcy hadn’t personally found anything wrong with the coin system, but Maria was supposed to be the expert. This was supposed to be an improvement.

You can’t improve a classic.

Darcy dug her old coin out of the pocket of her uniform jumpsuit, yet another of Maria’s ideas. She flipped the coin, concentrating on where she needed to do. When she opened her eyes again, she was there.

The New York Public Library.

She slipped past the crowds and skipped the lines, heading straight up the stairs for her hidden repository. Libraries were one of humanity's better inventions, in Darcy's opinion. Reapers didn’t have schools or libraries or really keep records. Sure, maps and planning had records, but that was more because they had to - they had to know who had already moved from the mortal world to the afterlife and who hadn’t. But reaper knowledge? Who they were and where they came from and what they did? That was passed from one reaper to another, without anyone ever thinking about writing it down.

Darcy knew enough of human history to know what a bad idea that was. Once she was really aware of it, it was impossible to ignore. So in addition to tracking Bucky down, she did this - wrote down every scrap of knowledge that she could find on reapers and filed it away. She wasn’t entirely sure who she was doing this for. No one knew about the repository’s existence, let alone how to find it. If something happened to her, no one would ever know about this place.

Maybe she was just doing it for her own peace of mind. Maybe it was just a way to pass the time, so she didn’t dwell on everything that had gone wrong. Everything that could still go wrong.

In any case, she was thankful for it now. She had questions, and she was pretty sure that somewhere in her collection was the beginning of an answer.

She wandered down the hall past the children’s section and ducked into a seemingly empty office. Well, empty to human eyes, anyway.

To Darcy, the room was filled with binders and books and loose papers just barely held together by the paper clips straining at the corners. Everything she’d learned over the last few years was here. Every scrap of information she’d uncovered as she learned to read the maps and calculate Bucky’s position, she’d written down. Every rumor she’d heard in the SHIELD halls, every myth or legend she’d heard a human whisper about - it was all here. Catalogued and categorized, in case she ever needed it.

The new SHIELD uniform didn’t really take such trivialities as comfort into account. Darcy shrugged out of the tight jacket with a small sigh of relief, then hung it across the back of the room’s sole chair. She rolled her neck a few times, then got to work.

The encounter with Bob had unnerved her. She’d had plenty of near misses over the years, the close calls almost too numerous to count. At this point, there were only two options. One, that she was incompetant. Her methodology for _finding_ Bucky was sound - she did always find him, with varying amounts of time to spare. It was what happened after she found him that was the problem.

Darcy was seemingly incapable of sending Bucky on to his afterlife. 

She couldn’t rule out incompetence, even if he was the only mortal that had ever given her such trouble. Her feelings for him could certainly be a factor, and there were more than a few novels worth of notes in this library that detailed her thoughts on the subject.

The second option - the increasingly likely and far more troubling option - was that someone was actively _preventing_ Darcy from taking Bucky from his mortal life.

The implications of the thought were exponentially disturbing and equally absurd. What would anyone have to gain by doing so? 

Still, she couldn’t shake the idea, couldn’t rationalize it away. Which was probably why she was here in her secret library, instead of home getting some much needed sleep.

But she wouldn’t find answers to that particular query here, at least not tonight. No, tonight she was going back to the beginning. Back to basics.

What did each page color mean?

She knew from her own experience that white was a mundane case. People who passed away in their sleep after a long and happy life. People who got sick. The unremarkable cases that - while devastating to the people who loved them - didn’t make much of an impact on a larger scale. These were the majority of cases she’d ever seen. These were the cases that the more ambitious reapers avoided, but Darcy had relished. Sure, an individual mundane case didn’t stop the world. But more often than not, these individual cases were the world to _somebody_. Darcy considered it her privilege to look after them.

Yellow pages were war. She tried not to relive the details as she reached up and pulled down a small stack of unbound pages that comprised her notes on the subject. She flipped through, looking for anything that she was missing, any tiny detail that she might have noted or overheard in passing that she just wasn’t remembering.

Green was kids and red was high priority. Orange was a confirmed date and time with fuzzy details while purple was something that might not happen at all.

But what was blue?

Darcy had never heard of any human ever having a blue page. She’d never heard of any reaper ever receiving one.

But the look Phil and Maria shared when she’d admitted that Bucky’s page was blue had to mean something. They knew something, something about Bucky’s case. Something they’d never shared with her, regardless of how many years she’d been toiling away to fix this mess.

It was infuriating and exhausting and she was no closer to an answer now than she’d been before she walked up here.

She leaned her head back against the shelf with a sigh and allowed herself a few moments of rest, closing her eyes and breathing deep.

Okay. So she didn’t know what a blue page meant. She could fill in that blank later. 

Why was _Bob_ warning her off today?

Her calculations had been perfect, right down to the second. She should have had plenty of time to get into position and gather her thoughts, gather her _courage_ to do what needed done. And just as she’d been ready, Bob appeared and spoiled it all.

Was it coincidence? Bob was a mess on the best of days, for sure, but was that really all this was? Or was there something else at play?

She stuck the pages back on the shelf where they belonged and made her way over to the desk. She unlocked the middle drawer and opened it, quickly tapping on the side to force the false bottom to drop out. She removed the drawer from the desk entirely and set the few contents aside before flipping it over to consider the scrap of fabric she’d adhered there.

It was probably all overkill. She was probably imagining boogeymen where there were none, inventing things that go bump in the night to excuse and distract her from her own failings.

She ran her fingers over the fabric, reminding herself that it was real and it was here and it was _unexplained._

What in all the hells was HYDRA?

"Oh Bob," she muttered, "what have you gotten yourself into?"


	15. After: Chapter 13

He slowly opened his eyes. New location. New handlers. Same stiff limbs.

He’s been brought out of cryostatis again. He didn’t waste the mental energy wondering what the mission would be this time - he would find out soon enough. Instead, he took a quick mental inventory of his body and its responses. He paid particular attention to the arm - if anything felt out of place or needed maintenance, they would want to know immediately, especially if the mission was time sensitive.

Once he was satisfied that he was functioning within normal parameters, he surveyed the room. The techs were nervous. That was nothing new. No matter how long he went under, the techs are always afraid of him.

Everyone is always afraid of him.

The techs were whispering to one another, having not noticed that he was fully awake, aware, and awaiting instructions.

“You _heard_ what happened the last time it operated on US soil. There’s a reason they do everything they can to avoid deploying it there,” Tech One said.

Tech Two shrugged. “Yeah, but how else are we gonna take out Stark? You got a better idea - send it up the chain.”

“I have no desire to get shot, thank you. I’m just saying - my entire career has been working on this project. We lose it now and I’m screwed.”

“I know what you mean. I can’t lose this job, man. No one else will give me funding to run human trials.” 

He tuned out the rest of their conversation as it devolved into irrelevant data.

Stark - the name was familiar. He briefly wondered if he’d ever run into the target before on a previous mission. He’d find out soon enough, he supposed. 

Tech Two looked thoughtful. “Hey, you think there’s any truth to the rumor about _why_ we don’t deploy on US soil?”

“What, the anomaly? It’s bullshit. Someone covering their ass for losing track of things in the first place.”

Tech Two shook his head. “I don’t know. There’s no Darcy in the record, and there are multiple reports of the name Darcy being screamed at various volumes. We know why it screams ‘Steve.’ ‘Darcy’ is the mystery.”

He perked up a little at Darcy’s name. Why was that name familiar? Why was that name _important_? He didn’t remember his own name, if he’d ever had one, but _Darcy_ was _**important**_.

His slight movement drew the attention of the two techs. “Morning sunshine,” the Tech Two grumbled, pushing back from his console to release the restraints keeping him in his cryotube. “Anything broken?”

He leveled his gaze at the tech, who flinched. Served him right for stopping his previous conversation. He needed more intel on Darcy. “Nothing to report.”

“Good. Boss is waiting.”

* * *

He turned away to shoot out the cameras. He’d likely catch hell for it later, but there was a voice somewhere in his head screaming at him to hide the woman from his handlers. He hadn’t seen her arrive, but he knew that she was going about her work. Cleaning up his, in a manner of speaking. 

He turned back in time to see a single tear slip down her cheek and she released Maria Stark’s hand. Then she gently reached forward to close the woman’s eyes.

He didn’t know much. He didn’t know his own name. But he was pretty sure that Maria Stark deserved better than this.

A thousand questions filled his mind as he watched her work, but he knew that they didn’t have time for that. It was futile anyway - he’d forget it all with the next trip to the chair, which was likely only a few hours from now. 

Still, he couldn’t help himself. He had the strangest feeling that was a common occurrence around this woman.

“Who is Sergeant Barnes?” he asked the woman, his quiet voice breaking the silence of the clearing where so much violence had just occurred.

She slowly got to her feet and met his eyes over the roof of the car, glancing at the gun in his hand. It was pointed at the ground, and she didn’t seem to fear him, regardless of the actions she’d just witnessed. He holstered the gun anyway.

“You’re Darcy, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question, but she nodded anyway. “I don’t...I don’t remember you.”

She let out a tiny, soft gasp of pain. He rushed to continue, suddenly overcome with the feeling that he never wanted to be the source of her pain.

“But I know you’re important,” he said. “You...You’ve always been important.”

Darcy opened her mouth to say something, anything. But nothing came out. So he kept going, talking about the only things he knew, rather than asking questions he might not like the answers to.

He nodded at Howard’s body, inside the car. “I knew this man. Didn’t I?”

Darcy nodded again.

He felt his lip tremble. “Was he right? Am I Sergeant Barnes? Is that who I was before...all of this?”

“Yes,” she whispered, as more tears fell from her eyes. 

“And I...I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

“No, you never did. And you don't have to anymore. That can be over now,” she insisted, before hesitating briefly. She sniffled softly before continuing. “I’m so sorry any of this happened. This wasn’t how things were supposed to be.”

Why would she apologize? To him, of all people? He dismissed the thought - that wasn’t the important part here.

“How were they supposed to be?” he asked.

Before she could answer, a device on his belt beeped and panic rushed through him. “You have to go. Now.”

“Bucky-”

His breath stuttered. “Was that-” He shook his head. Even if it was his name, even if she _knew_ , they were out of time. She couldn’t be found by them. He wouldn’t allow it. If he could only manage one good thing in this whole world, keeping her safe from HYDRA’s clutches would be it. “They’re coming. Go, before they see you.”

“They can’t-”

“Please,” he begged.

She walked around the car and tried to approach him, but he backed up. If she reached for him, if she touched him, it would be over. He’d never make it and neither of them would survive. “Maybe...in another life, Darcy.”

Fresh tears spilled from her cheeks. “Bucky,” she whispered.

“Please go - they’ll hurt you. Or...they’ll make me…” His voice trailed off as he continued to shake his head. He bolted for his motorcycle and climbed on. “Go!” he pled one more, then started the engine and sped away.

* * *

He'd missed check in. He had _missed_ the _check in_.

He couldn't remember if he'd ever done that before. If he had, they'd burned the memory out of him long ago.

He smiled grimly. If he ever had missed a check in before, and they'd hoped that their punishment would have stopped him from doing it again, they were sadly mistaken. He almost sort of hoped that he’d done it before.

He tried not to think about how if he _had_ done it before, he’d been retaken for punishment.

He changed gears on the bike and increased his speed again, desperate to put as many miles between him and the mission site as possible. If he pulled this off, he knew he would always be running. But if he didn't try, what was the point?

Where should he go? Where would they expect him to go? The problem with having no memories wasn't so much that he couldn't remember what might have once been important to him. Priorities change. What was important to a 10 year old, wasn’t necessarily important to a 20 year old, wasn’t important to a 30 year old. No, the problem was that _they_ knew what had once been important to him and he didn’t. He had no idea if by turning north towards New York he was heading directly to where HYDRA would expect him to go.

No matter how many times they wiped him, some things always came back, given enough time out of cryofreeze. He was pretty sure he'd asked about that once - why that was. Why did he have flashes of memory occasionally? Did they only target mission specific memories as part of standard operational security? Maybe. But that didn't explain why he couldn't remember anything about his life before HYDRA.

No, some things never came back. Some things did. One thing that always came back was Darcy.

Who was she? He knew that he wasn't aging the way most people did - he'd watched as handlers started as young, idealistic scientists with great ambition. Then he would blink and wake up from cryofreeze and those same scientists would be harried and gray, carrying the weight of unrealized potential and broken dreams in the lines on their faces.

Darcy though - Darcy hadn't changed at all.

He pushed the bike harder, wanting to make the next town before the hour was out. If HYDRA found him after this, the punishment would be swift and severe.

Darcy promised that he didn't have to hurt anyone anymore. That didn't seem real - he'd never been good at anything until someone put a rifle in his hands. It was a nice thought though - a lovely dream. Maybe they could try it.

If he ever found her again.

She always seemed to find him. Every time he was at his lowest, she would be there. The thoughts were fuzzy and he couldn't be sure if they were real. But he chased them down anyway.

In a flash, he knew where to go. He knew where to find her.

Darcy seemed to know about who he used to be. He’d liked talking to her. Maybe she'd be willing to tell him more. Maybe she'd be willing to help him. Maybe...

If he could get to her. If he could keep her from HYDRA. If he could hide them both. If she was even _willing_ to be hidden by him. With him. Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.


	16. After: Chapter 14

Darcy threw open the door to her little hidden library and slammed it behind her as the stress of the past few decades built to a crescendo in her heart. She yanked the chair from its place in the corner and tossed it across the room, where it slammed into the shelves, knocking the binders to the floor. A few loose pages fluttered slowly to the ground.

“SHIT!!!” Darcy screamed, so loudly her ears might ring, if that were a thing that happened to reapers. “FUCKING SHIT!!”

She grabbed the desk drawer and wrenched it from its rails, throwing it across the room where it smashed into the wall with a satisfying crunch. She swept the papers and maps off of the desk with a sob, then slowly sank to the floor as her anger bled out of her. Hot tears streamed down her face as her rage ebbed away, leaving behind only her grief and her guilt.

She’d been too slow. Again.

More humans died because of her. _Again._

Bucky continued to suffer because of her. _**Again.**_

How much could she stand before she broke completely?

The shelf across the room sagged, then hung in the air for the briefest of moments, before crashing to the floor, spilling its contents into a heap.

Maybe she had already broken. Maybe that’s why this was getting harder. Maybe she was just like that shelf - splintered years ago when Bucky had been stolen, only just hanging on until now, when she collapsed entirely.

They had known going into this that it would take time. She and Maria and Phil had known that interpreting the map, calculating the endpoints, all of it - it was going to take time to figure out and master. But they had done it! After a few years, they were making progress. She had been able to find Bucky with more accuracy and they weren’t cutting it so close anymore. 

They had _time_.

But then something changed. Something happened without their notice. And suddenly, it was like they were starting all over again. Calculations were wrong, Bucky wasn’t where they thought he would be or she would get there just a few minutes too late. It was maddening. Darcy wasn’t all that fond of feeling helpless.

So a year ago, she tweaked her approach and she suddenly was on site with time to spare. She _saw Bucky_ , had her first conversation with him in almost fifty years. 

If she were any kind of reaper worth her scythe, she’d have moved him on right then and there and been done with it.

But she had hesitated - _again_ \- and lost him. _**Again.**_

The whole thing was like something out of a nightmare. A cautionary tale they told to newbie reapers to get them to follow the rules. Of which there were now many, thanks to her mistakes. 

She had hoped today would have been different. Ideally, she would have gotten there before Bucky and been able to spare the Starks. Ideally, Bucky would be in his afterlife now instead of…

Where was he?

He jumped on his motorcycle and sped away, but he hadn’t seemed like he was eager to get back to whoever was holding him. No, that definitely wasn’t it. He’d had that determined look in his eye - he’d gotten an idea into his head and he was going to go through with it and damn the consequences.

He’d been terrified of his captors, which made the whole thing that much worse. 

No, that wasn’t right. Yes, he was terrified, but not so much for himself.

He had been terrified _for her_.

Darcy rubbed her eyes, scrubbing away the last of her tears. Bucky was in no state to recognize that his captors posed no threat to her. 

Unless…

Her eyes landed on the remains of the drawer she’d thrown in her anger and the scrap of fabric with the hydra on it she’d taped to the underside.

She’d seen that insignia before. She’d seen it on Bucky before, which was why she’d grabbed it in the first place when she’d found it all those years ago. But no. She’d seen it somewhere else, too. Somewhere recently.

In a flash, she remembered.

She’d seen that insignia on _Bob_.

The pieces suddenly fell into place. Why she’d had so much trouble calculating Bucky’s movements, why every time she got close another convenient obstacle got in the way. Why Bob had warned her off a year ago, stating that it wasn’t Bucky’s time anymore.

HYDRA had Bucky. Bob was working with HYDRA.

Which meant that HYDRA also had SHIELD.

Darcy looked around at her little library, mostly wrecked now, the carnage around her reflecting how she felt. The damage wasn’t anything that she couldn’t repair, but she suddenly wondered if she even should. She’d started building this library, thinking that if she could just gather enough information about how reapers worked, maybe it would give her a clue that would help her find Bucky and fix this mess. But until now, she and HYDRA had at least been working on a somewhat level playing field. If they found the information she’d collected here, who knows what they could do with it?

Darcy hung her head and ached with confusion. She desperately wanted to talk this out, hand over her information and her conclusions and let Phil or Maria just tell her what to do.

But if HYDRA had SHIELD, who could she really trust?

Well. There was one person. 

She crawled over to the map, digging it out from under the pile. Her eyes quickly found Bucky’s little dot. He was still awake then. He hadn’t gone back to his handlers and they hadn’t found him yet. That was new.

She smiled grimly at the thought of HYDRA idiots scrambling to find him. If a modicum of her Bucky was still in there, scratching at the walls to get out, HYDRA was going to have one hell of a time doing it.

But if he wasn’t going back to them, where was he going? She peered a little closer at the map, then grabbed a pencil and scratched out a few quick calculations on the back of one of the papers on the floor.

New York. He was heading for New York.

Hmm. She also happened to be in New York. How felicitous. 

She leaned back against the ruined shelf and closed her eyes. She could calculate exactly where he would go. She could find him.

But then what? If she sent him on, she would have completed her mission, put right a tiny fraction of her mistakes. It was what she should do. It was what she’d been working towards all these years.

But it wasn’t what she wanted to do. And it wouldn’t solve the HYDRA problem. For all she knew, that would just exacerbate the HYDRA problem. There was no way to know how far that particular problem went.

She could grab Bucky and run, maybe try to help him regain the life he’d lost. The upside would be that in the intervening time, maybe someone _else_ would solve the HYDRA problem. But if they ran, they’d never be able to stop. Death doesn’t need to hurry - it comes for every mortal, in the end. Death had the luxury of patience. And when Bucky’s time was up, be it in an hour or in 80 years, what would she do?

No. Running wasn’t a realistic option.

She pulled herself to her feet and started tidying up the mess she’d made in her anger. It had really been a human thing to do, she mused with a small smile. Maybe Maria had been right all those years ago. Maybe Darcy did spend too much time around humans.

Her mess was smaller than it had looked and it didn’t take long to clear up. She finally pulled the chair back to the desk and looked down at the map with a sigh.

“Where are you going, Bucky?” she murmured. She didn’t have the heart to do the math. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to know. If she found him, she’d have to choose, and right now that was the last thing she had the energy to do.

Her head told her to complete the mission. Find him, send him on, be done with it. HYDRA was a problem for someone else - or at least, a problem for another day. Her heart said something else entirely.

She shut that line of thought down. Following her foolish heart, allowing it to dictate her actions, had gotten them all into this mess in the first place.

She’d find him and send him on. Maybe she would allow for a brief goodbye. But that was it. 

With a resigned sigh, she picked up her pencil once more. She did the math and figured out a location. She wrote down the date and the time and the circumstances all next to his name on a little blue slip of paper.

“Jame Buchanan Barnes,” she muttered. “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”


	17. After: Chapter 15

Darcy peeked into the restaurant. It was early for the dinner rush and there didn't seem to be anyone around. Somehow, she'd beaten Bucky here. Habit, probably. It was always the goal to arrive a few minutes early.

It was an older place, for a restaurant. Nothing really seemed to last these days, but somehow this place had endured. It was a tiny little family run operation, serving up Italian comfort food, probably made from recipes long handed down from generation to generation. The little sign in the window said it had opened in 1935. She wondered if somehow, Bucky remembered it and that's why he was heading here.

Her eyes caught on a defect in the brick. Just a little chip, taken out of the stone. Something that probably could have been easily fixed, but hadn't been for whatever reason. Maybe the owners thought it contributed to the character of the place. Maybe they didn't think it was worth the effort to repair. Maybe they'd never noticed it.

"You're here."

Darcy nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned around and found Bucky standing in the doorway. He was looking at her in awe and it made her heart ache. 

"I wasn't sure if you'd find me," he continued. "But you always seem to. I remember that much, I think."

"Yeah, Bucky. I'll always find you,” she promised. “Even if it takes awhile."

Darcy's stomach churned. She should just...get it over with. Rip the band-aid off, so to speak. Stop drawing this out and eliminate the possibility of any more mistakes. Any more unnecessary pain. But he was here and she’d missed him _so much_. She just wanted...well. What she wanted really didn’t matter, did it.

"I was hoping you'd be here," he said, quietly. "I didn't...I'm sorry. About before. I didn't know what to do."

"Bucky, you don't have to apologize for anything."

A tiny ghost of a smile pulled at his lips. "You'd let me get away with anything, wouldn't you?"

"Bucky, there's...there's something that..."

He looked at her sadly. "Something happened, didn't it? A long time ago?” His gaze unfocused as he concentrated on his memory before he looked back to her. “That's why things are...the way they are?"

She nodded. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. It's all my fault, and you've only suffered for it."

Bucky hesitated, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he sorted through his thoughts and chose his words. "Did you do this to me? Take my memories? Make me do...things."

"No, but...I'm the reason someone else was able to do that to you."

"But do _you_ do it?" he insisted.

Darcy shifted. "No. Not directly."

"Then there's nothing to forgive."

Darcy shook her head. "Bucky-"

"Me on the other hand." He huffed out a bitter laugh. "I'm irredeemable."

"That is _not_ true," Darcy replied vehemently. "None of this is your fault."

"I still did it."

Darcy closed her eyes to stop the tears from falling. She took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of herself. “Yeah,” she whispered. She stepped closer to him and reached out before thinking better of it and dropping her hand back to her side.

Bucky took a step closer, too. He glanced around and he lowered his voice. "Could we..."

She looked at him. "Could we what?" she prompted.

"Run," he whispered. "Where they couldn't find us. You and me. We'd be the tops."

Darcy's breath hitched at the familiar words. "Bucky-"

"I’m not going back. Not if I can help it. I’d prefer not to be alone, but…Maybe you don't want me, and that's okay.” His smile was grim and rueful. “I wouldn't want me either. I was just…” He sighed. “You know me,” he continued, quietly. “And maybe you could tell me? Before you go?"

"Where would I go?" she asked. 

"I don't know,” he replied quietly. “Where do angels go when they're not looking after demons?"

Darcy gave him a look. "You're not a demon. I’ve _met_ demons. _You_ , sir, are not a demon."

"I feel like one,” he countered. “I don't...I don't know everything that I've done. Or why I've done any of it. But I know that I don't want to go back. I don't want to do it anymore. And I was hoping that maybe...you would want to come with me."

Darcy bit her lip and wished with all her heart that she could say yes. That she could give that to him. That they could live that dream and be happy. But if they ran now, they would never be able to stop. And maybe that would be okay, for a little while. But it wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t the way this was going to end. 

"We'd have to hide, of course,” Bucky continued, edging a little closer to her, his eyes pleading. He was so close now, she could feel the heat of him. She’d missed that. She’d missed everything, so much. “HYDRA won't give up easily. And we'd have to be so careful. I don't...I know that you're not...human? Probably? And I think HYDRA has figured that out - that there's someone watching out for me and they're looking for you so they can exploit you."

Darcy felt ice creep through her veins. If HYDRA was looking for them both, all the more reason to just...send Bucky on his way. Sooner rather than later. Then they'd both be gone and there would be nothing HYDRA could do about it. And if she was right and HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD…

Running was never going to be an option.

"I'd hide you, Darcy," Bucky continued. "I'd protect you. I'd do anything to make sure they never harmed one single hair on your head. They'd never even get close." His lip trembled a little, but he pressed on. "I know that the promises of a monster like me don't mean much, but...they're all I've got. And I would do anything to make sure you were okay. Anything. I don’t know my own name, but I _know_ that much."

Darcy stepped closer still as her heart broke all over again. "Bucky...it won't come to that."

He looked at her curiously. "How do you know?"

"Because...you're right. I'm not like you. And...I have been looking out for you, all along. I can get you out and in doing so, save us both."

He studied her face intently, then glanced down at her hands. "You...you just have to touch me." At her surprised look, he smiled sadly. "I remember now. Every single person I...you touched them. And I guess...helped them move on?"

She nodded. "It's my job."

"Angel of death?"

She grinned, despite herself. "Not exactly."

He nodded. "So. You have to kill me."

Darcy felt the tears come again at his matter of fact tone and this time she didn't do anything to stop them. "Yes," she whispered.

"Okay," he agreed, easy as anything.

She choked back a sob. "Well, you don't have to be so blasé about it."

"If I'm gone, you would leave too, right?" He shrugged. "Then you'd be safe from HYDRA. I told you - I'll do anything."

"Even die?" she asked, incredulously.

He nodded, his eyes solemn and serious. "Even die."

Darcy hesitated, then just went for it. "I don't want you to die," she whispered.

"But it's for the best."

"Maybe I don't care."

Bucky smiled at that, the first genuine smile she'd seen from him in decades. "It's okay, Darcy. Before I go...could...could we..."

"Anything."

He tried for a smile. "Dance with me?"

Darcy's breath caught in her chest. "I've never danced with anyone before."

"That's okay. I don’t remember dancing with anyone before. But I'll lead. You follow."

Darcy smiled and dialed back the power she’d been building so that she could take his hand. He pressed a button on the jukebox in the corner and a slow song started playing softly through the restaurant. He gathered her up and slowly swayed from side to side and leaned his cheek against the crown of her head. She felt him breathe in deep and her heart melted.

"If I have to go," he whispered, "I'm glad it's like this. That you're here and we're together."

Darcy felt more tears escape her, soaking into his jacket as he tightened his arms around her and continued.

"I don't deserve an ending like this."

"No, you don't," Darcy said, although she was fairly certain they were looking at this in two very different ways. He was probably thinking he was lucky that they were alone in this brief, happy respite and not so violent end perpetrated by HYDRA. She, on the other hand, had always wanted him to live a long, full life and would have happily greeted him at the end of it.

She had been right, all those years ago. For Bucky, she would use her power twice. The first, to save him from death. The second, to save him from something worse than death.

She hated that she was right.

"I'm so glad you're here, Darcy," he whispered.

"Bucky..."

"My angel,” he muttered with something that might have once been a wry smile. “I remember that much. Always my angel."

Darcy closed her eyes and buried her face into his chest as the song ended.

"So this is it then," he whispered.

"No," she breathed.

"Darcy," he nudged her chin gently, encouraging her to look up. "It's okay."

"Nothing about this will ever be okay."

Bucky smiled, then leaned in and briefly brushed her lips with his before pulling away. "I think I've wanted to do that my whole life."

Darcy huffed a watery laugh. Even if they’d kissed a thousand times before, even if she could remember each one with perfect, crystal clarity, she replied with something true.

"Me too." She took a deep breath and prepared to draw on her power. "It won't hurt. I'll make sure of it. It'll just be like going to sleep."

"I trust you."

Darcy forced herself to give him an encouraging smile. "It's been my honor. James Barnes. Bucky. My Bucky."

His expression softened, a smile, genuine smile ghosting his features. He was beautiful like this. She committed the image to memory, then reached out to take his hand.

_**BOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM** _

Darcy was knocked backward in the blast as the wall collapsed. Bucky hovered over her, protecting her from the worst of it.

"HYDRA," Bucky growled as he pulled himself up out of the rubble. He looked to her, grasping her face in his hands as he gave her a quick once over, checking her for injury. "Darcy, you have to go. Run, now."

"No, Bucky-"

"Go. I'll hold them off. They want me, if they get me they won't start looking for you."

"No! We can still -”

He grabbed her hand and she gasped. Her power was still charged through her fingertips, he should have moved on instantly. How the hell was he-

He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "Maybe in another life. Now. Run."

Bucky released her and ran outside.

Darcy scrambled to her feet and rushed to the hole in the wall, peering around the edge to see the street.

Bucky had been forced to his knees, held at gunpoint by eight HYDRA goons in full body armor. One more goon was forcing a muzzle on him while yet another was injecting a syringe into his neck.

No. Not some goon. _Bob_ was injecting something into Bucky’s neck.

"No," she breathed. She had failed. She had failed him yet again.

Bucky met her eyes. She held his gaze until the drugs in his system dimmed the light in them and he slumped into the ground. The HYDRA goons bundled him into a van and drove away, leaving Darcy alone in the rubble.


	18. After: Chapter 16

The first thing that always came back was smell. He wasn’t sure why. But the room stank of disinfectant and burnt hair and plenty of other less pleasant things. He was pretty sure he was the source of most of it.

His hearing was next. Sounds swirled into his ears as wakefulness slowly returned. It was quiet at first, then it all hit him at once. Even though the room was relatively quiet, with only the beeps of the monitors and the hum of the machines, the absence of sound hit him hard and smacked him back into full consciousness.

His head fell forward as he tried to push through the nausea that inevitably came with an appointment in the chair. Maybe that's why the techs called it recycling - he certainly felt like garbage. He kept his eyes closed while the worst of it passed. They wouldn’t like it if he got sick all over himself again.

Funny the things he remembered between sessions in the chair. The things they let him remember. He knew for a fact that he was being kept here, that he wasn’t allowed to leave on his own without a mission. He knew that they put him in the chair for “recycling” whenever they wanted him to forget. He knew that it hurt. It hurt like hell. 

He remembered screaming.

Well, maybe not. His throat was sore and he could feel the urge to cough, even if he suppressed it for now. It was entirely possible that he didn’t remember the actual screaming so much as he could recognize he _had_ been screaming by the after effects.

Did it matter, really?

After the worst of the nausea passed, he waited to open his eyes or give any indication that he was awake and aware. He knew that things would go better for him if he had some idea of the general mood of the techs before they got their hands on him. Sometimes he could even gauge how much time had passed, based on the conversations he overheard.

“How are you feeling?” a quiet voice beside him said. Bob, he thought. He was pretty sure this tech’s name was Bob. Nice enough, for someone in charge of an operation like this. He was nicer than any of the others, at least.

“Sorry about...well. I’m sorry,” Bob whispered.

He blinked a few times and took in the room. They were alone, Bob the only tech tending to him at the moment. 

“Lemme go and we’ll call it even,” he slurred.

“You should have just let Darcy take you,” Bob hissed back.

Darcy. 

He knew that name. His heart did funny things in his chest at the mention of her.

Why did he know that name?

“Do you remember?” Bob asked. “I’ve been messing with the controls, trying to let you remember more.”

The memory of a beautiful dark haired angel came back to him. Crying. Smiling. Screaming. Laughing. There was a whisp of a memory that danced away as fast as he attempted to chase it. 

It would come back. He knew that. Darcy - in memory and in person - always came back. He kinda loved that about her. 

“Look,” Bob muttered quickly, casting furtive glances at the door, “he’s pissed. He’s probably going to take it out on you. I’ve got this thing set as gentle as I can. Play along, if he puts you through recycling again, okay? Scream a lot, make it sound good.”

“Why would I help you?” he asked.

Bob opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off.

“Let _go_ of me, you miscreant!” 

He knew that voice. His heart pounded, his pulse thudding in his ears, reacting to the stress and the fear in that voice. He raised his head to see a dark haired woman being hauled into the lab. 

No, not just any dark haired woman. 

The woman from his fractured memory.

_Darcy._

She struggled against her captor, but his grip was strong on her arm as he hauled her into the room and shoved her forward. She staggered, bouncing off the lab table before using it to steady herself. She glared back at him, before quickly flicking her eyes around the room as she rubbed her arm where her captor had grabbed her.

“Darcy,” he murmured, the name slipping out without thought.

Her eyes met his and the color immediately drained from her face.

“No,” she whispered.

“Shut up” the man growled. He ducked his head instinctively at the voice, his tortured brain reacting to the sound, screaming at him to pretend to still be out of it.

Brock, he thought. He was pretty sure the voice belonged to a Brock. Brock was in charge of his trips to the chair. Brock decided when he would be recycled. 

It really was funny, what they let him remember.

“What’s going on?” Darcy demanded. “Why do you have a human here?”

Brock ignored the question, moving over to the chair, stroking the gleaming metal with something akin to reverence. “Do you know what this is?” he asked.

Darcy swallowed hard. “A recycling unit.”

“Uh huh. And what’s that?”

Darcy glared at him, but answered, her voice tight. “It’s how reapers die. We go in the chair, whatever makes up the bits of us gets pulled apart and put back into the system. We’re...unmade. Start over again as humans.”

Brock turned back to her with an approving nod. “Well. Looks like you did pay attention to one or two things after all. You’re not as dumb as you look.”

Darcy didn’t reply, just gripped her arm a little tighter, hugging herself.

“What do you think would happen if I put a human in the chair?” Brock asked, his tone conversational.

Darcy’s eyes widened. “You...you wouldn’t. It would...it…” Her voice trailed off.

Brock made a disapproving noise. “It doesn’t quite affect them the same way,” he replied.

As Darcy and Brock spoke, he dared to raise his head a little to look at her. He felt his heart do another funny thing in his chest as she squared her shoulders and glared right back at Brock. 

_‘That’s my girl,’_ said an absurd voice in his head.

“You sound like you’ve already tried it,” Darcy said, risking a glance in his direction. 

“Maybe I have,” Brock replied. “Maybe I’ve tried it lots of times.”

“Why?”

Brock shrugged. “Just to see what would happen.”

A tear escaped from Darcy's eye and slipped down her check, but her glare never waivered. “And what happened?”

He lowered his head just in time, as Brock turned to motion at him. He could feel Bob tense behind him.

“Memory loss, obedience,” Brock answered lightly. “And that’s great. But the important part, well that’s something spectacular.”

“And what’s that?” Darcy asked.

Brock grinned. “It gave him the ability to see reapers.”

Darcy stilled then looked at him. Her expression softened just a fraction, almost indecipherable. 

“So?” she replied.

“So?” Brock repeated, incredulous. “So?!?” He laughed, barking and bitter. “Think about it, reaper. Get enough humans in on the fact that reapers exist, that we hold the power of death, that _we_ determine when they die. What happens? _We_ end up in control.”

Darcy’s expression was horrified. “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

“Oh spare me,” Brock muttered. 

“Why are you telling me any of this?” Darcy demanded.

“Because you can read the map,” Brock replied. “You can calculate who will be where and when.” 

Darcy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So?”

“So maybe it’s time to start working with a scalpel instead of a hammer,” Brock said, gesturing at him. “He’s gotten the job done, but he’s only going to get me so far. I need to read the map. And you’re going to show me how.”

“No,” Darcy replied immediately. 

His head snapped up at that. She couldn’t do that - she didn’t know the consequences of refusing, of resisting. Bob put a hand on his shoulder, firmly enough to keep him in place, but not enough to hurt.

Darcy seemed to realize her mistake as she took in the expression on Brock’s face. “I - I mean, we could -”

“Fine,” Brock growled. “Then I have no use for you.”

Brock rushed forward and grabbed Darcy, hauling her across the room and throwing her into the chair. 

“No,” he whispered.

Brock lowered the restraints, locking Darcy into place.

“Do it, Bob,” Brock ordered.

“Um, sir,” Bob stammered, holding his hands up in a non-threatening, placating gesture. “Shouldn’t we -”

With an unintelligible snarl, Brock forced Bob away from the control panel and initiated the start sequence. 

Darcy’s breath stuttered as she struggled in the restraints, tiny terrified sobs escaping her. 

It was the tears that did it. Some deep inside him, something raw and primal, simply fractured and shattered. He pulled with all his strength, until the restraints holding him down snapped with an audible _pop_. He launched himself at Brock, tearing at the man’s eyes, punching his stomach, kicking at any part of him he could get leverage on. But he was still weak from his own stint in the chair and Brock shoved him away easily. 

“BUCKY!” Darcy screamed. He looked to her, responding immediately to the name. Their eyes met from across the room. She shrieked in pain and her eyes widened with one last, terrified gasp.

And then she was gone.

“NOOOOOOOOOOO!” he screamed.

Brock grabbed him, hauled him upright, and shoved him in the chair where Darcy had been a moment before.

“Shut up,” Brock barked. “Bob. Charge it up, wipe this piece of shit again.” Then he stalked out of the room.

Bucky looked frantically to Bob. Even if that wasn’t his name, Darcy had used it and he was claiming it now. “Is she gone?” 

Bob gaped at him.

“Bob!” Bucky barked. “Is Darcy dead?” 

Bob nodded, his head bobbing up and down unsteadily. “I think so.”

Bucky slammed his head back against the chair and screwed his eyes shut. He might not have all the context, he might not remember, but Darcy was _important_ damn it. He knew that she deserved better than this.

Bob slowed approached and crouched down next to him. He picked something up off the floor and peered at it curiously. “I think Darcy dropped something.” 

The innocuous statement startled him out of his grief. “What?” Bob held out his hand and Bucky peered at it. He frantically searched his fractured memories, upending whatever careful balance there might have been in his mind between sanity and the abyss. “That looks like…” 

The term was right there, it was on the tip of his tongue. He chased the thought harder and harder, until finally it came to him.

“That looks like part of my dogtags.”


	19. Interlude

Phil closed the door to his office and leaned against it, allowing himself one moment away from prying eyes to just _rest_ and ponder the last few days. He couldn’t let his team see him in this moment - they relied on him to be the steady voice in the stormy chaos they constantly found themselves in. If they saw that it affected him too, they might lose faith entirely.

They’d come too far and seen too much for them to lose faith now. If they did, it was over. The fight would be lost and who knows how much else with it.

He kept his eyes closed, scenes from the last few days replaying in his memory. The strange weather, the unusual people. The appearance of not one but two actual gods. It was never in his job description to deal with gods or monsters or the living. He was a reaper - he delivered souls to their afterlives and that was it.

Or at least it used to be. 

Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Repeat.

Breathe in. Breathe - 

“You are never going to guess what I just found out,” Clint said from somewhere behind him, starling him. Phil hoped that he hadn’t seen him jump, but the sound of his head thudding off of the door had probably been a giveaway. He turned toward the voice with a frown.

“Clint,” he said, his voice even as he turned on the lights, “what are you doing in my office?”

“You know, I kinda liked the part where we got last names. Can I still be Barton?”

“Fine. Barton, what are you doing in my office? And why were you sitting in the dark?”

“Dramatic effect. So we’re in New Mexico, right. We find the wayward god and his hammer. But we also run into a few humans who are hanging around the guy.”

Phil sighed. “Yes. I was there, I remember it. Vividly. Are you going somewhere with this?”

“Well, that’s just odd to me. Did it seem odd to you?”

He tried to keep the weariness out of his voice. “No.”

“Natasha thought it was odd.”

If Phil got headaches, this is where the headache would probably kick in. “Okay.”

“So she and I did some digging. And you are never going to guess what I just found out.”

“Are you going to tell me or do I actually have to guess?” Phil asked.

Clint held up a small, white, electronic device they had taken from one of the humans. “Darcy Lewis isn’t exactly what she seems to be.”

Phil paused, then dismissed the idea. “She’s human.”

Clint gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure about that?”

Phil ran down the list, counting off possibilities on his fingers. “She’s not another god, the energy’s all wrong for that, which also rules out any other kind of deity. She’s not a demon or a fairy. Vampires and werewolves aren’t real, a selkie wouldn’t be spending her time in the desert. I suppose she could be a witch, but it’s unlikely. She passes for human too well to be anything else.”

“That’s just the thing,” Clint replied. “I don’t think she _knows_ that she’s not exactly what she seems to be.”

That was a concerning thought. “Explain.”

Clint swung his legs down from the desk and leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows as his usual carefree manner grew serious. “I think Darcy Lewis used to be a reaper.”


	20. Now: Chapter 17

### 

Now

_Puente Antiguo. October 10, 2011._

Darcy flipped through her notebook as she unlocked her door, still attempting to decipher Jane’s latest notes. She’d locked the scientist in her trailer-van-thing to give Darcy time to catch up on documenting the sheer volume of calculations Jane had completed in the last few days and she hoped they could both catch some sleep before Jane wanted to go storm hunting again. Darcy may not know how to interpret the specifics of Jane’s models, but she recognized another incoming storm when she saw it. Jane got a funny look in her eye.

She kicked the door closed behind her and flipped the notebook shut as she fumbled for the light. With a click, the small room illuminated, revealing a petite redhead digging through Darcy’s dresser drawer.

“Hey!” Darcy yelled, dropping the notebook and fumbling in her bag for her taser.

“Hello,” the redhead replied, nonplussed. She glanced up at Darcy, her lips quirking into a small smile at the taser. “Good day so far?”

“Who the hell are you and what the hell are you doing?” Darcy demanded.

The redhead shrugged and returned her attention to her search.

Well, that was just rude.

“Excuse you,” Darcy said, her finger itching to pull the trigger. “I’m aiming a taser at you, the least you could do is answer my question.”

“It’s really not the least I could do,” the redhead argued, shutting one drawer and moving to rifle through the one above it. 

“What?” Darcy asked, weakly. This conversation was throwing her a little off balance. She probably should just tase the woman and be done with it, but the whole incident with Thor at the hospital had really been so much paperwork.

“The least I could do would be to ignore you entirely, Darcy Lewis,” the redhead replied, then turned back to Darcy with a smile. “Darcy Lewis, born December 18, 1991 to William and Elizabeth Lewis. Political science major at Culver University, although your favorite subject is Russian literature, mostly because you like arguing with the TA. You earn above average marks, but participate in no clubs or activities, and have no known close friends. Which might explain why you chose to move a few thousand miles away to earn your science credits completing an internship in a subject you don’t study.” Her smile grew slightly. “So maybe lower the taser.”

Darcy hesitated. “Who are you?” she asked, unable to keep the tremor from her voice.

The redhead just continued to smile.

Darcy lowered the taser with a sigh. “You’re with SHIELD.”

The redhead held up something small, with a dull shine that reflected the light filtering in through the window. “Why do you have authentic World War II dogtags?”

Darcy made a half-hearted lunge at the redhead, snatching at the dogtags, and stumbling a little in surprise when she was actually able to grab them. She steadied herself and looked town at the tags, running her thumb over the name stamped in them.

_James Barnes_

“I don’t know,” she said. “I have them. I’ve always had them. It’s no big deal. What are you doing here?” She turned to her with something a little like hope. “Did you bring my iPod back?”

“No.” 

“Ugh. Then what do you want?”

The redhead regarded her carefully and Darcy did her best not to squirm under the scrutiny. 

“You say you’ve always had those tags. Where’d you get them? Where’d they come from?”

Darcy shrugged. “No idea. I don’t remember getting them, I’ve just always had them. That a crime or something?”

“When SHIELD was here,” the redhead said, instead of answering Darcy’s question, “do you remember Agent Coulson feeling...familiar? Like you’d seen him somewhere before?”

“All middle-aged men in suits look alike,” Darcy replied. “The only reason I remember him at all is that he wrecked my friend’s research and stole my iPod.”

The redhead made a non-commital noise, then motioned to the door. “Come on. We’re going on a field trip.”

“Uh no,” Darcy said. “I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight, not with you.”

“Why not?”

“Well you won’t even tell me your name to start!” Darcy snapped. “I have no idea who you are or what you want. You think I’m getting in a car with you? Yeah, I’d prefer to keep both my kidneys, thanks.”

A look of amusement crossed her face. “You can call me Natalie.”

“Uh huh,” Darcy replied, not believing for one moment that was the woman’s real name. “Still not going anywhere with you.”

Natalie took a few slow steps forward, until she was standing right in front of Darcy. She nodded down at the tags in her hand. “I know where the tags came from. I know how you got them. I know why you’ve never been able to let them go.”

Darcy gripped the tags, running her thumb across the stamped name once again, the familiar gesture calming her the way it always did. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, as though the fabric could hide the tags away from Natalie. A tiny, sharp glint of gold caught the light and Darcy’s attention as Natalie moved and an idea popped into her mind with perfect clarity.

“Did I get them the same place you got that arrow necklace?” Darcy asked.

Natalie’s expression faltered with surprise, but she quickly recovered. “Well now. That settles it. You definitely are who we thought you were.”

Wait. What.

“Who did you-”

Natalie surged forward and grabbed Darcy, swinging her around until she had a firm grip on her neck, then slammed Darcy’s head into the wall and everything went dark.

* * *

“Owwwwwwww,” Darcy groaned. Her head was pounding and her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton. There were birds chirping, who the hell gave them permission to be cheerful dammit.

“Yeah, Nat’s not what we’d call a ‘people person,’” a genial voice said. 

Darcy cracked an eye open then quickly shut it again as the sudden light caused her head to scream in pain. She took a few deep breaths, then tried again.

Leaning over her with a friendly grin was a slightly disheveled, sandy-haired man, who looked awfully familiar.

Darcy groaned. “Biceps,” she said, by way of greeting.

The man looked delighted.

“Please don’t feed his ego, it’s enough to suffocate us all as it is,” Natalie called.

Darcy sat up and looked around. They were outside, near a lake or a pond or something. Natalie walked down the ramp of a small jet while Biceps climbed up onto a picnic table, sitting down on the table and resting his feet on the seat. Darcy was on the ground in front of him, only a few steps away from a cabin. It was scenic and peaceful, but far too quiet. Darcy had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t be getting back to Jane anytime soon.

“How are you feeling?” Biceps asked.

“Like I have a bunch of new memories in my head,” Darcy grumbled. “Someone want to explain that?”

“Cognitive recalibration,” Natalie replied, as she approached. She crossed her arms over her chest and watched the scene with apparent amusement, even if Darcy didn’t find anything funny about it.

“She hit you really hard in the head,” Biceps added. “I’m Clint, by the way. Don’t think we officially met during the Thor thing.”

“Right,” Darcy replied. Flashes of memory kept hitting her, making her head feel stuffed full to capacity. Some of it made no sense, but other parts…

“Okay,” Darcy said, reluctantly pushing the memories aside and trying to focus on the present. “So my next question is - which memories are mine? The ones from the last twenty years, the human life ones or these….other ones?”

Clint shrugged. “They’re all yours.”

“Well that can’t be right,” Darcy muttered. This Bucky who kept popping up in some of her clearest memories seemed too good to be true, even if each one was sharpened with the sting of heartbreak.

“Why not?” Natalie asked. 

Darcy didn’t want to answer that. “Just...can’t be.”

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Clint asked.

Darcy jerked a thumb at Natalie. “This one hitting me.”

Clint grinned. “Before that. Your last memory before your human life.”

Darcy thought back, wading through her scattered memories, trying to force them into some sort of order. “I was on a job. Waiting for-” She stopped short, unsure of how much to tell them about Bucky, or HYDRA or any of it. For all she knew, they were HYDRA.

Then again, if they _were_ HYDRA, they could have just let her continue on as a human and she never would have been the wiser.

Fuck it. She had to trust somebody. Trusting no one got her into this mess in the first place.

Besides, these two were at least pretending to want to help.

“Afterwards, I tried to go into the office,” she continued. “Got grabbed on the way, dragged into some weird vault. There was a struggle. A fight. Then I got recycled.”

“Barnes was there?” Natalie asked.

Darcy nodded. “He tried to save me.”

“Barnes was the job, wasn’t he?” Clint asked, flicking a glance at Natalie.

“Yes,” Darcy whispered. “I messed up. I couldn’t do it.”

“I know the feeling,” Clint replied easily, as though Darcy hadn’t just admitted to the greatest failing a reaper could ever have.

“I really doubt you do.”

Clint shrugged. “Believe me, don’t believe me. But Natasha here is proof - ow!” Clint flinched away from stone that had just been thrown at him. “What was that for?”

Natalie - or Natasha, or whoever - sighed and sat down next to Clint. “Blowing my cover.”

“So...Natasha, is it?” Darcy asked, amused. “Why the code name?”

“Why not?”

“Fair enough. So what are you proof of?”

Natasha smiled. “Clint was sent to kill me. He made a different call. Just like you did with Barnes.”

“You’re not a reaper?”

Natasha shook her head. “I’m human. Or I was.”

“Wait, but what does that-”

“Excuse me,” a voice said, coming from the direction of the cabin. “Can I help you folks?”

Clint and Natash turned to face the voice. 

“Hey man,” Clint greeted. 

Darcy scrambled to her feet as well, still reeling from the implications of Natasha’s casual admission. She quickly dusted off her pants, then turned towards the voice as well. 

And promptly almost fell back down in shock when she recognized the person standing on the porch. A face she hadn’t seen since 1945. A face that hadn’t _aged_ since 1945.

“Steve?”


	21. Now: Chapter 18

“Steve?” Darcy whispered. How was this even possible?

Steve stared at her, something like recognition flickering in his eyes before his expression closed off completely.

“Captain Rogers,” Clint said, drawing Steve’s attention away from Darcy and back to him. “I’m Clint Barton, I’m with SHIELD.”

“Hello,” Steve said, his eyes sliding to Darcy.

“We had something we wanted to talk to you about. Could we come in?”

Steve’s eyes snapped back to Clint. “It’s your house, I suppose.”

Clint shrugged. “I’m part-time, actually, so I doubt I get rental privileges.”

Darcy frowned. “How does-”

“Long story,” Clint muttered.

Steve watched their exchange, then took a step back and waved them inside. He looked to Natasha, who smiled. 

“I’ll watch the perimeter,” she said.

Steve frowned, then nodded and followed Clint and Darcy into the cabin.

“You two should talk,” Clint said, motioning to Darcy. “Your coffee pot work?”

“You tell me, then we’ll both know,” Steve replied.

“Right. Get the coffee sorted, then teach you how to do it. Check.” Darcy rolled her eyes at Clint’s antics as he abandoned her for coffee.

Steve cleared his throat, then motioned to the table separating the kitchen from the rest of the room. “Please,” he said. He waited until she sat down before taking a seat himself. “So what’s your book about?”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, dissertation then?”

“I don’t - I’m not writing anything,” Darcy said. The conversation was off-putting. Steve Rogers, by all accounts, should be dead. She had a vague memory of Phil telling her a long time ago that he wouldn’t die on the plane, but that wouldn’t explain how he was here in front of her right now, 70 years later, not having aged a day.

Was it the serum? It couldn’t be. Right?

Unless…

Was Steve a reaper now too?

No. Maybe? No.

“Oh. Sorry.” Steve shrugged, oblivious to Darcy’s churning thoughts. “Feels like everyone I’ve talked to is writing a book and wants a quote.”

“Ah. Yeah. I can see where that would get…” Darcy fumbled for the word and couldn’t find it. Steve’s guarded smile suggested he understood. Or maybe he was a better actor than those old movies gave him credit for. Her memory was still a little fuzzy, but she didn’t think she’d looked in on him nearly as much as maybe she should have. Maybe if she had done, she’d know.

“What are we supposed to talk about then?” Steve asked. “If you’re not writing a book.”

Darcy hesitated, glancing at Clint, who raised his mug of coffee unhelpfully.

“Coffee’s done.”

She shook her head. She was jittery enough as it was, seeing Steve again. Maybe if she’d thought things through a little more, she’d be more prepared.

Boy, if that wasn’t the story of her life, she didn’t know what was.

Then again, maybe she would have had time to think things through more, instead of being walloped over the head and kidnapped, she’d be more prepared.

_That_ sounded more like the story of her life. This whole thing was giving her a headache.

Clint cleared his throat, drawing Darcy out of her thoughts and back into the conversation. Steve was giving her a curious, concerned look. She must have been silent a little too long.

Whoops.

“I need your help, I think,” she started. She glanced at Clint, who gave her an encouraging nod.

“With what?” Steve asked.

“I - uh…Well. See the thing is that…uh…” her voice trailed off. She closed her eyes for a moment to gather her thoughts, then looked at him. Speaking to him, face to face for the first time. He was so different, here with her like this. It was jarring. She had human memories of reading about this guy in her history class, but she was also so used to watching him in person, seeing him interact with other people in the presence of Bucky. Steve Rogers really was a different guy with Bucky than without. 

But that’s why she was here, wasn’t it? She couldn’t begin to guess at Clint or Natasha’s motives for bringing her here, but she just knew that if anyone could help her, it was Steve. She needed his help to help Bucky - and even in these few moments of speaking to Steve now, she realized that by helping Bucky, she’d be helping them both. 

_“They’ll be fine. As long as they stick together, they’ll be fine.”_

The memory of Sarah Rogers’ words from so long ago now came back with a vengeance and steeled her resolve.

“What do you remember about the day your mother died?” she asked, as gently as she could manage.

Steve’s eyes flashed with a quick burst of anger, but his tone remained even. “I don’t see how that would be any of your business.”

He had a point, but Darcy was determined and this was the only way she could think of to make him understand.

“Bucky snuck you past the nurses so you could visit,” she continued. “You were there, at the end.”

Steve swallowed hard but didn’t reply.

Darcy nodded, psyching herself up for her admission. “So was I.”

Steve was still for a moment, then looked away. “I supposed you’re going to tell me something fantastic, like you’re the...I don’t know, that you’re Bucky’s reincarnated soul or something.” His tone was derisive and his defences were up. Darcy was pretty sure she’d blown this entirely, that he would never believe her, but she didn’t know how else to explain things to him. She’d never really had to explain any of this to anyone - Bucky had figured it out on his own and everyone else she’d known while she was a reaper was also a reaper. She pushed forward, determined to make him understand.

“No,” she said, unable to keep the sadness out of her tone. “No, nothing like that. It’s...hard to explain, really.” She glanced at Clint again, who nodded. She looked back at Steve who looked at her impassively. 

“I may be...a little behind the times,” Steve said slowly, “but I think I can keep up with whatever it is you’re trying to tell me.”

Darcy nodded. “I’m...I was there the day your mother died, because I’m the one who escorted her from the mortal world to her afterlife. I’m a reaper. Or I used to be, anyway. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“A reaper,” Steve said.

“Yeah. I escorted humans to their afterlives for almost 800 years before...well. I had an incident.” Darcy shrugged. “Then I was human for a while, forgot everything. Now, I’m not sure what I am.”

Steve stared for a long moment, taking in Darcy’s words. “Afterlives?” he asked.

“All the afterlives are real,” Darcy replied. “Whatever one you believe in, that’s where you’ll end up.” Steve’s breath hitched and Darcy continued, keeping her voice gentle. “Your mom’s in a really nice one.”

“Ma,” Steve breathed. “She’s okay then? No more pain?”

“No pain,” Darcy confirmed. “I gave her a name, a friend of mine. He’ll look after her.” Darcy grinned a little, thinking of Pietro and his antics, and how she hoped they made Sarah smile and think of her boys. “He will have shown her just where to go to look in on you.”

Steve’s lip trembled, then he quickly looked away. Darcy glanced at Clint, who busied himself making up two more mugs of coffee. When he placed one mug in front of Darcy, she grasped it, breathing in the aroma of the fresh brew and closing her eyes to give Steve a moment to collect himself. There was something about the scent that was pulling at her, sitting up and begging for her attention, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

“Okay,” Steve said, his voice a little unsteady, “say I believe you. If you can do all that, if you know all that - how can I possibly be of any help to you?”

Darcy pushed the thoughts aside and set the mug down. She wasn’t sure how to approach this - should she be gentle and sugar-coat the situation? Or should she rip off the proverbial band-aid?

“Well,” she began, “my last assignment...didn’t go as planned. I botched it, royally. And a lot of people have paid the price. I’d like to try to fix it, as much as I can anyway. But from what I remember, everything I’ve tried on my own has only made things worse.”

Steve eyed her warily. “What was your last assignment? Or should I say - _who_ was your last assignment?” Steve's voice was resigned, like he already knew the answer. 

Darcy hesitated.

“Was it me?” he continued when she didn’t respond. “Was I the assignment? Is that why I didn’t die when the plane went down?”

Darcy shook her head. “No. I don’t know why you didn’t die on the plane.” 

“Then who?”

“Bucky,” she whispered.

Steve didn’t visibly react, but his voice turned ice cold. “Bucky died falling from a train.”

“No, he didn’t. He was supposed to. But he didn’t.”

“Why not?”

Darcy steeled herself and forced herself to continue her story. “I hesitated. And then he was gone. Taken. And I’ve been chasing him ever since. Until the people who took him started chasing me. When they caught me, they did something to me. Made me forget, made me human. So now it’s been more than 20 years, but I’m getting my memories back and I’d like to end this, once and for all.”

“You want my help to find my best friend, just so you can kill him?” Steve asked.

“I don’t think I have that power anymore,” Darcy replied. “I want to find him so I can help him, get him away from the people who took him, who have been using him all this time.”

“Using him for what?”

Darcy looked at Clint, unable to voice the words to Steve.

“Eliminate anyone who stood in the way of HYDRA’s plans,” Clint supplied.

“HYDRA?” Steve snapped, glancing at Clint, then turning back to Darcy. “That’s who held him captive during the war. He said they...did things. He said it was bad.”

“I know,” Darcy replied. “I was there.”

“How were you - oh. Right. Reaper. No one noticed you?”

Darcy shrugged. “I was invisible to humans back then.”

“Reapers still are, when we want to be,” Clint chimed in. “But we’ve learned it can be useful to be visible occasionally. Personally, I think it’s just a fun trick to do at parties.”

Steve stared at Clint, like he didn’t quite know what to make of him, before returning his attention to Darcy.

“So you were in the HYDRA camp, reaping souls that died? How’d you know Bucky was there?”

“Uh....I wasn’t exactly there because of an assignment,” Darcy said.

Steve frowned. “Then why were you there?”

Darcy opened her mouth to try to explain, but the only thing that came out was a short huff of slightly hysterical laughter. She sobered quickly, then tried again. 

Steve narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“My name is Darcy.”

Steve hung his head, then rubbed his eyes for a few moments. When he looked back up at her, he looked every moment of his advanced calendar age. 

“I’m pretty sure I’m the only one he ever told, you know,” Steve said, his voice rough. “I thought he was losing it, that he made you up to cope with whatever had happened to him in that camp. And I let it go, I figured - if it got him through, you know? We had the rest of our lives to sort it out when we got home, if the idea of his guardian angel got him through this day and the next, then fine. No harm done.”

“He told you about me?” Darcy whispered.

“Yes,” Steve replied. “So. You’re here, you’re real, and you want my help to save him.”

Darcy nodded, still reeling from Steve’s admission.

“You’re still looking after him, after all this time,” Steve said. “Death sure is patient.”

Darcy recoiled at that. “It’s not - I’m just someone who loves him.”

“Do you.” Steve’s voice was flat and disbelieving. It wasn’t really a question, but Darcy answered it anyway.

“Yes. I do. I love him. Always have.”

“And what would you do to help him?”

“At this point?” Darcy raised her hands in a helpless gesture. “Just about anything.”

Steve nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Okay. How can I help?”


	22. Now: Chapter 19

Darcy led the small troupe into the library, straining her fractured memories to remember just where exactly her little cache of reaper knowledge had been hidden.

“The maps would have to be wildly out of date by now,” she warned.

Natasha shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s a place to start.”

“Maps?” Steve asked, as he held the door open and allowed the others to pass. 

“It’s how we track the humans that need an escort,” Darcy explained.

“Used to,” Clint corrected. “They did away with the maps before I became a reaper. I’ve never used them.”

Darcy paused. “Really? When was that?”

“Early 2000s or so.”

Darcy frowned, but didn’t comment further. 

“What is it?” Steve murmured to her. 

“I’ve been human for 20 years,” she replied, just as quietly. “Seems like more has changed in that time than in all the centuries I was a reaper before it.”

“I might know something about that feeling,” Steve said, a small, but not insincere smile crossing his face.

Darcy returned it. “I’ll bet.” She slowed to a stop in front of the little alcove she remembered using. “Okay. This is it.”

Steve looked at it warily. “It’s just a wall. Did they build over it? Cover the door?”

Darcy shook her head. “Humans can’t see it.”

Steve gave her a curious look. “Can you see it?”

“No.”

Clint tilted his head a few times, causing his neck to crack. “I got this.” He kicked at the wall and it folded inward, the illusion shattering with the door hinges as the space opened to them.

“Subtle,” Natasha teased.

“It’s my strong suit,” Clint agreed.

Darcy led them inside, ignoring the musty smell of the stale air. Apparently, she’d hidden her library well enough that no one had found it in the 20 years she’d been gone. She pulled a map from it’s cubby on the wall and moved to unroll it on the desk, dropping a map weight in each corner to keep it from rolling up on itself as they considered it.

“Okay,” she said, attempting to focus on the task in front of her. “So this map is just a bit out of date, but if we cross-reference -”

“Darcy,” a surprised voice came from behind them. They all turned to see the newcomer.

“iPod thief!” Darcy replied, then paused, attempting to quickly parse the memories that were suddenly flooding her mind. “Wait…Phil.” She looked to the man, who was staring at her like he’d seen a ghost. Which, to be fair, was sort of what was happening. From a certain point of view.

“Darcy,” he said again. “It’s you.”

“I think so,” she said. “Pretty sure, anyway.”

Phil stepped into the room. “You’re back.”

“Maybe? I don’t exactly know what happened or what my status is, to be honest.”

Steve cleared his throat and stepped in front of Phil. “Steve Rogers,” he greeted, holding out his hand.

“I know!” Phil said, grinning. “I watched over you!”

Steve blinked, his expression melting into something a little sour. “Okay.”

“Oh boy,” Darcy muttered. “Phil, what are you doing here?”

“I found the library not long after you disappeared,” he said, reluctantly turning his attention away from Steve. “I put a tracker on the door, to let me know if anyone ever opened it.”

“One, I didn’t disappear, I was murdered,” Darcy said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her tone.

“I know that now,” Phil said. “Bob found me when we were looking for you. He told me everything.”

“Bob’s the one who killed me!” Darcy cried, indignant. 

“No!” Phil insisted. “He’s been a double agent for us for decades now. He’s been helping us track HYDRA. He had been sabotaging the machine that Barnes was in, allowing him to keep more of his memories each time, until we could figure out how to get him out. The machine was set so low that you weren’t truly recycled when Brock pushed you into it. With the right course of treatment, you’ll be a full reaper again in no time.”

“Oh.” That...was unexpected. Darcy set it aside, resolving to think more on that revelation later. “Okay. So Bob told you what happened. Why didn’t you find me then?”

Phil grimaced. “We knew that you’d been partially recycled, but there’s no way to know how or when you would appear. We just had to wait.”

“And why didn’t you recognize me in New Mexico? What are you doing meddling in human affairs in New Mexico anyway?””

Now Phil just looked guilty. “There was so much else going on, I didn’t imagine we’d find you there too. I’m sorry.”

Darcy nodded. She didn’t like the answer, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. She was here now and regaining more memories every minute. Besides, they had a job to do.

Natasha seemed to agree. “You don’t happen to have a more up to date map on you by any chance, do you?”

Phil looked to Clint. “You brought her in on this?”

“Where I go, she goes. You know that.”

“How does this work, exactly?” Steve interjected. “Natasha is human, Clint is a reaper, Darcy is…” He cast an apologetic glance at Darcy, which wasn’t necessary, but she appreciated the thought. “To be determined, I guess. That’s about as much as I’ve got.”

“Clint Barton was sent to kill me,” Natasha purred. “He made a different call.” 

“And you say I’m dramatic,” Clint said. He looked to Steve with a grin. “She was my blue sheet.”

Alarm bells went off in Darcy’s mind. “She was your _what_.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said.

“Every reaper has a blue sheet - one human they won’t be able to escort. She was mine.”

“How - why - _what_!” Darcy sputtered.

If that were true - if that was why Darcy hadn’t been able to do her job and escort Bucky to his afterlife - 

Phil sighed. “Under the old system, every human was assigned a color that corresponded to their circumstances somehow. The details of their case would be committed to paper of that color. Someone who died while fighting a war, for example, would have a yellow page.”

“What did blue mean?” Steve asked.

“Soulmates,” Clint said.

_What._

Natasha rolled her eyes. “You’re a romantic idiot.”

“I'm your romantic idiot.”

“I am seemingly stuck with you, yes.” Natasha turned away from Clint to address Steve. “It’s not soulmates.”

“What is it then?” Darcy snapped. Her nerves couldn’t take much more emotional whiplash. 

Steve moved a little closer, offering his silent support as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d like to know that as well.”

Phil sighed. “Most humans, you have a set expiration date. You have free will, of course, nothing is absolute, but in most cases, the date of your death isn’t going to change much. Maybe a few weeks here, a year there, but in the overall grand scheme of things, not much changes. Humans who were classified as blue pages were different. Their fate could swing wildly in any direction.”

“They’re also the ones who get offered a choice,” Clint supplied. At Phil’s stoic expression, Clint motioned to Steve and Darcy. “They deserve to know the whole story,” he argued.

Phil sighed again. “Yes. Blue pages are the humans who are offered a choice when they pass. They can move on to their afterlife, or they can become reapers. Typically, a reaper will only be assigned one blue page in their entire existence and it will be their responsibility to train that reaper, should they choose to become one.”

“It’s why our power doesn’t necessarily work on them,” Clint explained. “They already have a little bit of it themselves.”

“And that’s why they can see reapers, regardless of whether or not a reaper wants to be seen,” Natasha added. “Barnes was a blue page, wasn’t he?”

Darcy nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

“It’s why HYDRA’s so frustrated by him,” Natasha replied, gently. “They’ve never been able to reproduce his abilities, because they never created them in the first place.”

“They just don’t know that,” Phil added.

“But...I didn’t know any of this,” Darcy said. “And when Bucky’s name appeared on my list, I wouldn’t have known to give him a choice. I didn’t even know a choice was an option.”

Phil looked severely uncomfortable now. Clint glared at him briefly, then looked to Darcy. 

“It was before my time,” he said, his voice soft and apologetic, “but from what I know, it sounded like SHIELD was trying to get the blue sheets out under the radar.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve demanded.

“SHIELD knew about HYDRA,” Natasha said. “Maybe not all the specifics, but they knew they had a problem. The system started breaking down about a thousand years ago. Slowly, in lots of little ways, none of which seemed consequential at the time. But add it up, and it turned into one big problem. Eventually, HYDRA realized that reapers were so overworked that they didn’t have time to properly train new reapers, making them perfect targets for recruitment. They’d take them under their wing, and groom them to be perfect little HYDRA agents.”

“It’s what happened to Bob,” Clint added. “So SHIELD knew that the new reapers were especially at risk, so they decided to just stop making new reapers. As much as they could get away with, anyway. They gave blue sheets to reapers who didn’t know any better, and never offered those humans a choice. They were shuffled off to an afterlife and safely tucked away, out of HYDRA’s reach.”

“So SHIELD has been...manipulating things this entire time?” Darcy asked. “Just to, what, hold onto their power? What does HYDRA want anyway? What could be so bad that it justifies this level of manipulation?”

“It’s all about power. HYDRA wants to control both the mortal world and the afterlife,” Phil replied. “They want to take away free will.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “That’s bad.”

“So SHIELD has playing defence for 70 years?” Steve asked. “Has anything been done to try to stop HYDRA, or just limit the damage?”

The resulting silence told Darcy all she needed to know. She looked down at the map in front of her on the desk. “So what now?” 

Steve leaned over the map. “Can you find Bucky with this thing?” he asked quietly.

“Yes.”

Steve turned to Natasha. “What’s the likelihood they’re keeping him at their main base of operations?”

She shrugged. “Even if they’re not, Barnes could probably tell us where that is.”

“Okay,” Steve said, then straightened to his full height. “So we find him, get him out, and take down HYDRA and SHIELD in the process.”

“SHIELD?” Phil said, surprised.

“Yeah, Phil,” Clint replied. “SHIELD too.”

“But-”

“You brought me in specifically for this,” Clint interrupted. “You picked a carnie kid with a problem with authority and decided he’d be the perfect outside view of the situation. Well, I’ve seen my fill and I agree with Rogers. The whole system needs to go.”

Phil looked at each of them in turn, then nodded. “Okay. What’s the plan?”


	23. Now: Chapter 20

Darcy stared at the entrance to the facility, unable to force herself to open the door and walk inside. Bucky was somewhere on the other side, she knew that and she desperately wanted to get to him. It was not knowing what _else_ might be on the other side that gave her pause.

“Are you ready for this?” Steve asked.

“Nope,” Darcy replied. “You?”

“Not in the slightest,” Steve said, then shrugged. “But that’s nothing new for me.”

Darcy gave him a look. “The Star-Spangled Man With The Plan isn’t ready?”

“That propaganda must have been _really_ good if even reapers knew about it,” Steve said. 

Darcy huffed out one short laugh. “I was with Bucky most of the time. After a certain point, it was impossible to avoid.”

“Yeah.” Steve’s voice was quiet, contemplative. “Thank you, by the way. Don’t think I’ve said that.”

Darcy furrowed her brow in confusion. “For what?”

“Staying with him, through everything. The trenches, that god-forsaken camp. After.” A muscle around Steve’s jaw twitched like he was grinding his teeth. “For looking for him, after the train.”

“Steve-”

“I should have gone back. I should have looked for him. Hell, I should have jumped off that train after him.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Darcy argued. “Besides, I had his sheet - if I had done my job, he would have died in that ravine. You jumping after him wouldn’t have done any good.”

“You heard them earlier - you couldn’t have. There was no way your power would have worked on him. I should have gone back to find him, bring him home.”

Darcy sighed, not really willing to have this argument now. “We both screwed up, how about that?”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “If that’s how you want to look at it. But you still kept searching for him. I just…”

“Decimated the Nazis?” Darcy offered.

“Took a nap,” Steve countered, bitterly.

Darcy swallowed another sigh. They weren’t going to resolve this today. They were going to need the world’s greatest therapists earning their fees a few times over and a lot of time for either of them to even come close to accepting what had happened.

Or maybe just blowing up HYDRA would do wonders. Darcy was more than willing to test that particular theory right now. She just had to work up the guts to open the damn door.

“Tell me the plan again?” Darcy asked.

If Steve noted Darcy’s sudden change of subject, he didn’t let on. “Phil, Clint, and Natasha are taking care of SHIELD headquarters while you and I rescue Bucky. Once we have him, we’re going to grab any intel on any additional HYDRA bases before we blow this place to hell. Then, I’ll rendezvous with the others while you get Bucky somewhere safe.”

“You make it sound easy.”

“It is easy. Smash, grab, explode. It’ll be fun.”

Darcy grinned at him. “You’re just itching for a fight, aren’t you?”

“I haven’t punched a Nazi in almost 70 years. I’m overdue.”

Darcy pulled open the door and Steve rushed in, shield held up in front of him. Phil had offered to get his old uniform for him, idly wondering if it might help spur some of Bucky’s memories, if he’d been through a memory wipe recently. Steve had refused, but did take the shield. It stood out like a damn target against his borrowed, all-black reaper uniform.

“It comes in handy,” he’d argued at the time.

Darcy couldn’t help but agree now, as she crept silently behind Steve, watching him bulldoze his way through the facility. The shield bounced off the walls, boomeranging back to Steve’s waiting hands, and taking down bad guys in the process. A few moments after a goon would appear, they would be unconscious. It was rather effective.

Finally, they approached the vault where they assumed Bucky was being held. Steve held up a hand and kept perfectly still, listening for any sounds on the other side that might indicate just how much resistance they might meet when they opened the door. He shook his head slightly.

“Alone?” he mouthed.

Darcy shrugged her response. That didn’t sound right, but maybe they had gotten lucky. Steve’s assault on the facility hadn’t exactly been quiet. Maybe everyone had heard the noise and rushed to defend the place. Maybe every one who might have offered resistance was already unconscious.

Maybe. Darcy doubted they were that lucky - she’d never been that lucky in any of her lives so far.

Steve readjusted the shield on his arm, squared his shoulders, and opened the door.

Inside, Bucky was alone, strapped into the chair, and groaning softly, his eyes closed.

“Darcy,” he murmured. 

It took everything she had not to run to him immediately. Steve checked the room quickly before running to the chair and starting to undo the restraints holding Bucky in place.

Darcy took that as her cue. She rushed to Bucky’s side, deftly undoing every restraint she could get her hands on. When the last one released, he slumped forward. Darcy stumbled back slightly under his weight, until Steve pulled him away and relieved her. 

“You’re here,” Bucky slurred. “This the end?”

Darcy froze, her eyes wide as she took in Bucky’s words. “No,” she insisted, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “We’re getting you out.”

“They’re still here,” Bucky mumbled.

Darcy’s stomach dropped. “Who’s still here?”

“Me,” a voice growled in her ear as hands grabbed her and violently shoved her away. She hit the ground, skidding across the floor as Bucky fell and cracked his head off of the cold marble tile. She scrambled back, attempting to get back to her feet, but she was pushed to the floor again as a barely conscious Bucky suddenly covered her in a feeble attempt to protect her from whatever Brock could throw at them.

“Hey!” Steve yelled as he jumped into the fray, swinging his shield down at Brock. Brock countered and hit back, sending Steve skidding across the room. Brock rushed to the control panel for the recycling chair and started flipping switches.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up. Didn’t figure you’d blow up SHIELD as a distraction,” Brock said, his tone conversational. He flung a knife in Steve’s direction, the blade flashing in the light as it sailed end over end.

It was a direct hit, nailing Steve right in the stomach. The impact punched out a gasp from Steve, who stumbled in shock for a moment, before falling.

“Stay down,” Bucky murmured, his eyes drooping.

But there was no way she could. Even if she did pretend to be unconscious, what good would it do? Brock would drag her away and recycle her. Given that she was neither fully reaper nor human at the moment, there was no telling what the machine would do, especially since Brock seemingly dialed the controls all the way up past their recommended settings. She wasn’t especially looking forward to it.

Brock stalked toward them and kicked Bucky away. He landed on his back with a groan.

That’s when Darcy saw the wound in his side.

“Bucky!” 

She made to move toward him, when rough hands grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her upright and onto her feet. Brock shoved her, hard, until she stumbled into the chair. He didn’t bother strapping her in securly, just threw the main chest restraint across her then bolted for the control panel. 

She looked around frantically. Steve was still crumpled in a heap on the floor where he’d fallen and Bucky wasn’t much better. She slapped at the restraint holding her down, her trembling fingers fumbling the latch repeatedly. The sound of the chair powering up wasn’t helping.

“Come on, come on!” she hissed. 

Finally, the latch came undone and she bolted from the chair, just as Brock flipped the switch.

“DAMMIT!” he yelled. “Why won’t you just get out of the way?”

Darcy scrambled to Steve’s side and felt for a pulse. 

His body convulsed slightly as he coughed. “I’m okay,” he rasped. “How’s Buck?”

“You took a knife to the gut, you dweeb,” Darcy muttered. Then turned as she heard Brock rushing behind her. She grabbed the shield with both hands and swung it up as she stood, catching Brock right under the jaw. He stumbled backward, right into Bucky’s waiting hands.

Bucky grunted with the effort of restraining Brock, but he powered through it.

“What are we gonna do with this guy?”

Steve stood with a groan and stumbled forward. “We’ll take him to Phil. They’ll deal with him.”

“You’re all NOTHING!” Brock screamed. “NOTHING! HYDRA is ORDER! HYDRA will bring sense to the chaos that is mortality!”

“Shut up,” Bucky snapped, his breathing still heavy, but he was putting a good face on it.

“You’ve been a good pet all these years,” Brock growled at him. “But you’ve outlived your usefulness.” With a jerk of Brock’s arm, Bucky’s eyes flew open and Brock sprang free. He rushed Darcy, who caught him and held on.

“What did you do?” she yelled, glancing at Bucky. Steve had rushed to him, and was gently easing him to the floor.

“Who cares?” Brock snarled. “He’s just one more mortal. One more death. In the grand scheme of things, he’s just one more casualty to bring order.”

“Do you even listen to yourself?” Darcy asked. “What the hell was the point of all this? Do you even know?”

Brock ignored her and continued ranting. “The mortals - they’re insignificant. Temporary. We blink and they’re gone.”

Darcy stared at him in horror. She’d classified mortals in a similar way once. Temporary. But somehow she and Brock had come to wildly different conclusions as to what that meant.

“Who cares if one dies?” Brock spat.

Darcy shoved him back, away from her and into the chair’s waiting hold. “I do.” 

She ran to the control panel and flipped the switch. With a flash of light, Brock was gone.

She stared at the chair for a moment, ensuring that he was gone, that he wasn’t going to hop out from behind it like some sort of third-rate horror movie villain and terrorize them one more time before the credits rolled. She didn’t know where she’d sent him or what exactly she’d done. She had trouble mustering the will to care. Instead, she turned to Steve and Bucky.

Before she could take a step, Bucky rushed her, enveloping her into a crushing hug. Then he pulled back and looked her over.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Are _you_?” she shot back.

Bucky shook his head. “Nope.”

“Me either,” Steve chimed in.

“Great. Let’s get out of here and then figure out how to do something about that.” Darcy wrapped an arm around Bucky’s waist to help support him, mindful of the gash in his side. She looked at Steve. “Can you make it out without help, or should I come back?”

Steve waived her off. “You go. I’ll follow.”

The three slowly trudged outside, picking their way through the facility.

“We should blow it up,” Bucky said. “So no one else ever ends up here.”

“Way ahead of you,” Steve replied, tacking another explosive to a structural support as they passed. 

“Please tell me that shit’s not on a timer. I’m not up for a run.”

Steve’s chuckle was dark, darker than Darcy would have thought him capable of.

“No,” was his only reply.

When they finally found their way back into the daylight, the street was quiet. The sky, however, was in chaos.

“That’s new,” Bucky said. “I mean, I’ve been out of it for a while, and my brain is kinda scrambled eggs, but I don’t remember giant fireballs fallin’ outta the sky like that bein’ normal.”

Darcy grinned despite herself, cheered Bucky’s words, even if there was nothing funny about them. “You sound like you, though.”

“I hit my head,” Bucky replied.

“Knocked some sense into ya then,” Steve said.

Darcy laughed. “Cognitive recalibration. Remind me to thank Nat.”

They all stared up at the burning sky as their mirth settled and the adrenaline faded. 

“We overthrew the afterlife,” Steve marveled.

“That’s gonna bite us in the ass, isn’t it,” Bucky grinned.

“We’ll figure it out,” Darcy said.

Bucky grinned down at her then stilled, his expression softening as he looked between her and Steve.

“Am I dead?” he asked quietly.

Darcy frowned at him. “No. What makes you ask?”

Bucky raised his eyes to Steve. “Because Steve…right? They told me...but then they wiped my memory and…”

“No, Buck,” Steve replied. “I’m not dead either.”

“That your doing?” Bucky asked Darcy.

“No,” she replied. “I don’t get paid enough for that.” She frowned. “I don’t get paid, period.”

“It’s a long story,” Steve said, as he peered up into the sky. “But I think we’ve got time to tell it.”

“That’s new,” Bucky murmured, pressing a soft kiss into Darcy’s hair. “I like the sound of that.”

“Me too,” she said. “Let’s go find the others.”

“And food,” Bucky said. 

“Seconded on the food,” Steve replied.

Darcy laughed. “Okay. Food first, deal with the afterlife later.”


	24. Now: Chapter 21

Darcy kept her eyes on Bucky as they made their way back to the rendezvous point. He’d improved significantly at the diner, but she wasn’t sure how much of it he was faking. Would he fade completely soon, collapsing at the first sign of a safe harbor to rest? Or was he actually getting better this quickly. She supposed she just had to wait and find out.

Unfortunately, they still had plenty to do until they could rest.

“Hey, you’re back!” Clint called from inside Darcy’s library. Natasha looked up at them and nodded a greeting, before wincing slightly as Clint applied another butterfly bandage to a gash on her face. 

“Nobody dead?” Clint asked.

“We’re standing here, aren’t we?” Bucky said, his tone wary.

Natasha snorted as Clint shrugged. “Doesn’t mean much with this crowd.”

“That’s going to take some getting used to,” Steve muttered. “How’d things go on your end?”

“Did you somehow miss the giant fireball in the sky?” Clint grinned. “Natasha here does good work, when she puts her mind to it.”

“You strike me as more subtle than that,” Steve said.

“The situation didn’t call for subtle.”

Darcy grinned. “I thought you made your point fairly eloquently.”

“Thank you.”

“If the mutual appreciation society has wrapped its meeting,” a voice said from behind them.

Darcy turned to face the newcomer, Bucky silently stepping just in front of her to place himself between them. He slowly reached back and gently placed on hand at her hip, his fingers just barely brushing her side, enough to give him firm confirmation of exactly where she was standing. 

“I believe Ms. Lewis and I have some things to discuss,” the newcomer continued.

“Lewis? We can keep the last names? Sweet!” Clint cheered.

“Who are you?” Bucky asked.

“I’m Nick Fury,” he replied. “I used to run SHIELD.”

“He’s always had a last name,” Clint continued. “Is it so wrong to want one too?”

“I’ll start calling you Barton, if it makes you feel better,” Natasha offered.

Darcy swallowed hard, ignoring the other banter, then gently touched her hand to Bucky’s. “It’s okay,” she murmured.

Bucky didn’t budge. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

“Actually, Sergeant Barnes?” Phil said, coming up behind Fury. “I have some things I’d like to ask you while the director and Darcy speak.”

“No.”

“Do we have to do this now?” Darcy asked, attempting to find some sort of middle ground before Bucky’s stress level went any higher.

“I’m afraid it can’t really wait,” Fury replied. Well. There went that idea.

“Bucky,” Darcy whispered, then slowly moved around him so that she was standing between him and Fury. She looked up at him with a small, reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” she said again, low enough that they could at least pretend that everyone in the room wasn’t eavesdropping on the conversation. “It’ll just be a minute.”

“I lost you once,” Bucky replied, just as softly. “More than once.”

“You never lost me,” she argued. “Not ever. And you’re not going to.”

“Darcy,” Bucky pleaded. 

“I will be right there, in that corner,” Darcy reassured him. “Come on, you have to talk to Phil anyway. We have a lot of questions about the both of us, remember? Maybe this way, we can get everything answered at once and then we can be done with it.”

Bucky warred with himself for a moment, then closed his eyes and gave Darcy’s side a gentle squeeze. “Okay,” he agreed.

Darcy turned back to Fury. “Let’s go over here.” She motioned to the side of the room and Fury followed her while Phil led Bucky outside. Bucky paused at the door, giving Darcy a long look before following Phil out. Steve hesitated, looking between Bucky and Clint and Darcy, before silently moving to join Clint and Natasha at the desk. He fidgeted with the first aid kit, idly reorganizing the supplies and picking up the discarded wrappers from Clint’s efforts to patch up Natasha. Clint grinned at him, then motioned to the door.

“Let’s take a walk,” Clint said, and led Natasha and Steve outside, leaving Darcy alone with Fury.

Once the trio filed out, Darcy turned her attention to Fury, who looked down at her impassively. 

“So,” she began, “you used to run this shitshow?”

Fury’s expression twitched into something resembling amusement. “For a time.”

“Good job.” Darcy looked away, unable to take Fury’s gaze any longer. “So what happens now?”

“Is there something specific you want to know?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at his evasiveness. “Plenty. But I guess the first, most pressing question - what happens to the humans?”

Fury looked surprised. “You don’t want to ask about yourself?”

"I overthrew death itself," Darcy said. "I'm pretty sure that somehow precludes me from any sort of happily ever after."

“That’s not the impression you gave Barnes just now.”

Darcy let out a long, slow breath, but didn’t otherwise reply.

Fury gave her an amused look. "What makes you think you're the first to ever attempt it?"

"Uhhhhh. What."

"You're not even the first this millennia, Ms. Lewis."

"But - okay. Fine. I'm sure whoever else did had better reasons though. I was just...well..."

Fury raised an eyebrow. "Just what?"

Darcy swallowed hard. "It was selfish, really. I..."

"Love isn't a noble enough goal for you?"

Darcy didn’t have an answer for that.

“Okay. The humans. Not much changes.” Fury settled back onto his heels a little, projecting an open posture that Darcy was pretty sure was designed to make her think he was being completely open and honest. Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. 

“Then why did SHIELD exist at all?” she asked.

“Oh, the humans can’t do anything on their own - they still need some sort of guide or system to get them to their afterlife. SHIELD is gone, true, but something will take its place.”

That made Darcy wary. “And what’s that?”

Fury made a thoughtful gesture. “It’s still developing. I’ve been hearing from Pietro that there’s a Sarah Rogers making an absolute rukus in one of the afterlives. Her ideas aren’t bad actually, we’ll probably bring her in for a chat.”

Darcy grinned. “You know who that is, right?”

“I do.”

“So you know to listen to every word she has to say?”

“I do.”

“And if you don’t, you’ll certainly hear about it eventually from quite a few of us.”

Fury gave Darcy a look. “Are you suggesting that I put Sarah Rogers in charge?”

Darcy shrugged, but shot the same knowing look right back at Fury. “I’m saying that there are worse ideas.”

“I’ll take it under advisement. Now, about you.”

“What about me?”

“What do you want to do?”

“I didn’t know I had a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice.” Fury began counting off Darcy’s options. “We could get you fixed up right now, get you back to full reaper status. You could be ferrying souls again by the end of the day. Or you could become fully human. I’ll warn you - the fully human option will likely come with a few side effects.”

“Such as?”

“You won’t remember - any of it.”

“Any of it,” Darcy repeated.

Fury nodded. “Not being a reaper, not this time a human, nothing. The only way to make you fully human would be to recycle you again - properly this time.”

“Are those my only options? Why can’t I just...stay as I am right now?”

Fury gave her a somewhat sympathetic look, but didn’t directly answer her questions. “I’m afraid I need to know your decision now.”

Darcy drew in a shaky breath. If it was a choice between remembering Bucky or not, it wasn’t a choice at all. She’d choose him every time. But just because those were her options, didn’t mean Bucky didn’t have other choices available to him. “What about him?” she asked, motioning in the direction Bucky had gone with Phil.

“He’s having a similar conversation right now.” That wasn’t exactly helpful, but it told her enough. 

“You know,” Clint said loudly, leading Natasha and Steve back into the library, bearing paper cups in their hands, “there is a third option.”

Darcy turned, surprised at the interruption. 

“What’s the third option?” she asked.

Clint grinned. And then took a long, loud slurp of coffee.

_Coffee._

The realization smacked Darcy in the face. 

“Coffee...it’s toxic to reapers,” she said slowly.

“Coffee _is_ toxic to reapers,” Clint agreed, grinning.

“Then what the hell?” she asked, trying to slap the cup out of his hands.

“Darcy,” Clint said, his tone drawing her full attention and stopping her attempts. “Coffee makes us mortal.”

What.

_What._

“What?” she said.

“Well,” Natasha said, drawing out the vowels slightly, “not exactly.”

Clint shrugged. “Close enough. It suppresses our abilities to the point where we’re not immortal. We’re just not exactly all that mortal either. Makes us better suited for work other than ferrying souls.”

“Like say...maintaining a library, perhaps?” Steve grinned.

Darcy stared at him, gobsmacked. “Since when are you an expert?” she teased.

“Since I gave him the rundown on our way to the coffee cart,” Natasha replied.

“You can calculate it down to the day, you know,” Clint added. “There’s an equation.”

He didn’t mean what Darcy thought he meant. He _couldn’t_. “Why would I do that?” she asked.

Clint shrugged. “Maybe there’s a lifespan you want to match.”

“But how would I know-” Darcy stopped short, her eyes catching on Natasha’s arrow necklace again.

Natasha grinned and held up Bucky’s dogtags. “You’ll need a talisman to calculate the date.”

“Wait,” Darcy said, rubbing her eyes. “You’re saying that Bucky and I could have matching lifespans, and I wouldn’t have to forget him or go back to what I did before all this?”

“Sounds like it to me,” Steve said. 

Clint nodded. “Yeah, you’ve got it about right.”

Darcy turned on Fury. “There was a best of both worlds option and you weren’t going to tell me?” she snapped.

He sighed. “Clint-”

“Barton!” Clint interrupted.

“-is literally the only one who’s ever done it.”

“But I _could_?” Darcy insisted.

Fury looked around the room. “This library was a great initiative. A society that records its history is much harder to wipe out and forget. But it’s missing a lot of information - everything here is just the start. You want to take on the job?”

“Yes!” Darcy’s reply was immediate. “I pick this. I’ll drink the coffee and be the librarian. I pick a life that could be lived with Bucky.”

“All right then.”

Steve grinned at her. “So should I go tell him or-”

Darcy swatted his arm with a grin as she rushed out the door.


	25. Now: Chapter 22

Darcy bounded into the hall, quickly glancing around to find Bucky and Phil. She tried not to feel too discouraged when she didn’t immediately spot them. Phil had likely taken Bucky aside, maybe into another room or secluded alcove to keep their conversation mostly private. 

Bucky was completely visible to humans after all. Phil only had to be when he really wanted to be. 

She rocked back on her heels as she tried to decide what to do. Should she go looking? 

No, it was better to wait. She didn’t know the details of what Phil might be discussing with Bucky, but whatever his options, he deserved to be able to make them for himself, in peace. No matter what her feelings might be, that was all she ever really wanted for him - to be able to live the life of his choosing. For the first time in far too long, he had that chance.

She wandered over to a bench and settled in to wait. Even if Bucky chose immediate recycling, even if he wanted to end this existence today, Phil would at least come back this way and would tell her. She wouldn’t have to wonder.

The minutes ticked by. Darcy could hear the others back in her little library, the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the hall. Steve’s laugh was the loudest and heartiest and the sound warmed Darcy’s heart, taking the edge off of her worry for Bucky. She was happy that Steve had found friends here in the future. He deserved that, and more.

After an hour had gone by with no sight or sign of Bucky, Darcy finally stood up from the bench. She paced the hallway a few times, stretching her legs and trying desperately not to think about all the ways this might have gone wrong.

“Darcy.”

Darcy jumped a little and spun around to face the voice. “Maria,” she replied.

Maria’s smile was tentative. “Long time.”

“Yeah. Been busy, you know.” This was awkward. How exactly does one make small talk when you just kinda blew up your friend’s entire, literal reason for existence?

“Look, Darcy - I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

That was unexpected. Darcy wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that. “For what?”

“I should have realized something was wrong a lot sooner,” Maria said. “I should have tried to do something. After you went...missing...I did try to find you. We all did. But Bob only knew so much and there are so many humans…”

“It’s okay, Maria,” Darcy said. “My time as a human really wasn’t all that bad. High school was terrible, sure, but that’s not your fault.”

Maria looked pained. “I should never have slipped Barnes’ blue sheet onto your roster.”

Oh. “So...you knew. About the blue pages and what that meant and what SHIELD was doing.”

Maria nodded. “I knew. Most of it anyway.”

That stung. Darcy got it, it had been Maria’s job. But it still stung. “Okay,” she said, trying to put her feelings into words. “It’s not - well, it’s not _okay_ , but it’s over now and the good guys won. I have the luxury of time to both be annoyed _and_ get over it. And I will. One day.” Darcy laughed a little to herself. “Can’t speak for Bucky though. You’ll have to hash that out with him when you two finally meet.”

Maria nodded, her motions stiff and uncertain as an uncomfortable silence fell between them for a brief moment. “I heard you’re going to build a library? About reapers?”

“Yes!” Darcy said, grateful for the change in subject. “Well. Expanding, more like. I had already started it...before.”

And they were back to awkward. Perfect.

“If I can help…” Maria’s voice trailed off and she bit her lip.

“You are going to be my first call, you don’t even realize it yet.”

Maria smiled, her first genuine smile of the conversation, then motioned to the library. “Are you going in?”

“Not yet. I’m waiting for Phil to finish up with Bucky.”

“Phil’s the one who told me to come down here - I saw him about 30 minutes ago?”

Darcy’s heart sank. “Oh.” 

If Maria had seen Phil 30 minutes ago...where was Bucky?

* * *

Darcy blinked away tears and lied to herself that it was just the wind affecting her eyes. She edged away from the ledge, the drop from the top of the Woolworth Building no longer as innocuous as it once had been. Still, even after all these years, the view from the top comforted her, the sunset still beautiful.

She’d considered asking Maria to join her up here, for old times' sake, but ultimately had decided against it. While distracting herself with catching up with a friend might be nice, she really just needed to sort through her thoughts on her own right now. 

So she came to the best place on the planet to do so. The view might have changed a little since she’d last been here, but it still felt good.

Having to bluff her way past security had felt less good, but she didn’t have her coin anymore. She couldn’t just wink in and out of existence at will anymore. She’d have to ask about that - could she even use a coin anymore if she had one?

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself a little tighter. Too many questions, not enough answers. The biggest question of all - what happened to Bucky?

The creak of a door opening drew her attention. Bucky stepped out slowly, his head hung as he shuffled quietly onto the roof. 

“Bucky?” she breathed, half convinced her brain was playing some sort of cruel joke on her.

Bucky’s eyes snapped up in surprise and he hurried toward her. “Darcy?” he whispered. “What are you doing out here?”

Darcy’s face twisted in confusion. “What do you mean? I came up here after -”

“Phil said that you would have a choice - human or reaper. That when you chose reaper, you’d be put back into service immediately.”

“Bucky, I didn’t choose reaper,” Darcy began.

“But human - you’d forget everything!” Bucky’s confusion shifted into mild alarm. “I didn’t think you’d want that. But...maybe - I mean, I know things have been -”

“Bucky,” Darcy interrupted, “I didn’t choose human, either.”

“I don’t - I don’t understand,” Bucky said. “Phil said that you had two options: human or reaper.”

Darcy shrugged, and struggled to keep the grin off her face. “I chose a third option.”

“What’s that?”

“The one that would let me have a life with you.”

Bucky stood stock still, completely frozen, his lips parted in shock. The silence between then deafening as Darcy waited for him to process, the only sound the wind whipping between the buildings.

Maybe she shouldn’t have teased him about this. 

“You know,” she said, fidgeting, twisting her fingers together in a nervous gesture. “If you want.”

“I want,” Bucky replied immediately. “Of course I do. Always have. Even when I didn’t know my own name. I just...I didn’t think you’d choose me.”

Darcy felt a little like she’d been slapped. “Why not?”

“You’re an angel, Darce,” Bucky replied, his expression pleading and tone helpless. “Even if that’s not your official designation, you’ve always been my angel. And I’ve never done a thing in my life to deserve it.” 

“Bucky,” Darcy breathed. “That’s not true.”

He made a non-committal sound and looked down at her hands, still twisting nervously. He tentatively reached out and covered them with his own, shifting so that her fingers were wrapped around his. “I had a choice too. Afterlife or reaper.”

Uncertainty gripped her chest. “Not human?”

“No,” he replied. “But I didn’t know what to do. I certainly haven’t earned any kind of good afterlife - even before...I think I remember the first time I was supposed to die. When I fell off the train. I think I told you I knew I wasn’t goin’ anywhere nice.”

“You asked if we could take the long way,” Darcy replied.

Bucky nodded, seemingly relieved her comment aligned with his memory. “I also don’t want to live forever. I’m _tired_ , Darcy. I don’t want to see any more death.”

Darcy exhaled slowly. She could understand that. “So what did you say to Phil? What did you choose?”

“I asked if I could talk to you or maybe Steve. You’ve always been my better sense. And Steve, well.” Bucky’s expression changed to a fond grimace. “If Steve picked it, it would be a terrible idea, but at least it would be a noble one?”

Darcy fought the urge to facepalm and stifled a laugh. While Bucky’s reasoning was ridiculous, this wasn’t funny. “So...is that what this is? You need me to help you choose?” Had he just been...wandering the city, trying to decide?

She wasn’t sure she could help him, really. Not that there was any law or rule or anything _preventing_ her from helping him choose, she didn’t know if she could bring herself to do it. Either option would likely mean that they’d never see each other again. She wasn’t sure she could remain objective about it and the last thing she wanted was to influence his decision one way or another just because it was what she wanted.

“No.”

Oh. Well there went that. “But then what -”

“I told him to kick rocks and I left. I’ve been wandering the city ever since.”

What.

Bucky grinned, a little sheepishly. “I didn’t know if walking out that door meant that I would be dooming myself to wandering the earth alone forever or something else equally stupid, but I couldn’t make a decision like that without you, especially when my decision _was you_.” His grin softened. “I choose you, Darcy. I never expected you’d choose me, too.”

Darcy reached out, grabbed a fistful of his shirt, and yanked him down to her. She kissed him, pulling him close, with the unspoken promise that this time, there would be no letting go. Whatever had caused him to doubt, she would fix. Because this? This was everything. 

She would know - she did have 700 years of experience, after all. And none of it meant a thing without him.

“Not sure where you got the idea that I wouldn’t choose you, but I look forward to proving you wrong every day for the rest of our lives,” she said, when they finally parted.

Bucky grinned. “Sounds good.”

They lost a little more time together, the rest of the world fading away for a little while. This time, Bucky pulled away first. 

“But seriously - am I a zombie or something now?”

Darcy laughed. “No. You are not a zombie.”

Bucky nodded. “That’s probably a good thing. I’d hate to leave Steve with that dilemma.”

“Meh. Steve’s back in the library plotting with the rest of them.”

“The last time someone left him to plot, he ended up ransacking half of Europe.”

“It needed a good ransacking.”

“True.” He cradled her face in his hands and pulled her close once more, dropping gentle kisses into her hair. “So what now?”

Darcy hummed happily, then leaned back a little so she could look up at him. “How do you feel about being a librarian?” 

“I can alphabetize with the best of them,” Bucky replied. “What kind of library are we running?” He looked around and nodded in the direction of the library. “Because the New York Public Library might still have my old card on file, I’m not sure digging up those ghosts would be a good idea.”

“Not that kind of library,” Darcy said, the grin taking over her face. “A _reaper_ library. One that would track down and record our history. One that would help prevent anyone from doing what HYDRA did ever again.”

Bucky’s face did that thing where his eyes got really really soft and he let out a tiny huff of a laugh as a hint of a disbelieving smile crossed his face. She loved it when his face did that thing.

“I’d learn about you?” he asked. “More than the stories you used to tell me?”

She nodded. “I’d learn about me, too. We’d do it together.”

“I’d like that,” he said.

“Me too,” she agreed, then paused as a thought occurred to her. “But first - how do you feel about space? Because I’m in the middle of an internship with a super-smart astrophysicist who cannot be trusted to care for herself and I kinda left her in a lurch a few days ago.”

Bucky laughed. “Why’d you leave?”

“I was kidnapped.”

“You - what?”

Darcy shrugged. “It was part of the recruitment pitch to help rescue you.”

“How was kidnapping you in any way persuasive?”

Darcy leaned in for another kiss. “That’s just how much I love you, Buckaroo.”


	26. Epilogue

Sharp little pinpricks on her face pulled Darcy out of her peaceful sleep. She twitched a little, hoping the sensation would fade and sleep would pull her back under, to no avail. The pinpricks grew just a little sharper, with more force tapping on her chin. She breathed out a groan and pried open one eye, determined to keep the other shut in a futile attempt to cling to sleep.

Fur. All she could see was white fur.

“Al, buddy, no,” Bucky whispered. “Let Darcy sleep, huh?”

“Mwrp?”

“I filled your food before bed, how is it empty already?”

“Mwrp.”

“Oh apologies, your highness. I was unaware that flavor of cat food was not to your liking.” Darcy felt the slight weight lift from her as Bucky picked their cat up and took him away.

“Darcy needs her sleep, Alpine,” Bucky whispered to the cat. “You need something, you come to me, okay?”

“Mwrp.”

Darcy grinned at the antics of her boys, then snuggled under the covers and drifted back to sleep.

* * *

Darcy adjusted her glasses as she skimmed through the pages in front of her. Somehow, Jane’s research had intermingled with her own studies, and now Darcy was having trouble sorting it all apart again. Jane’s atrocious handwriting was startlingly similar to thousand year old runes. Bucky stopped behind her chair, setting down a cup of hot tea before giving her shoulders a quick squeeze and dropping a kiss onto the crown of her head. She smiled, humming happily as he pulled up a chair beside her, keeping one hand on the back of her neck, rubbing tiny patterns into her skin.

“How can I help?” he asked.

Darcy motioned to the pile. “Start sorting that side? I’ll keep going over here.”

“On it.”

They worked in companionable silences for a few minutes before the walls shook with thunder.

“Thor’s back,” Bucky observed, his tone distracted as he read through the page in front of him.

“They’re so subtle,” Darcy replied, moving a small stack of bound reports into the “for Jane to deal with” pile.

“Darcy! We’re back!” Jane called. She moved into the room and dumped an armful of books onto the table near the door.

“Really?” Darcy replied. “I didn’t even hear you.”

Jane rolled her eyes with a fond grin. “I have so much to tell you. We have so much work to do.”

“Buy me tacos first.”

“Darcy! James!” Thor bellowed as he swept inside. The constant opening and closing of the former car dealership’s doors was threatening to blow all of Darcy’s carefully organized papers all over the room and Thor was going to _hear about it_ if she had to sort through it all for a third time. Darcy slapped a hand onto one pile to keep it in place while tossing her recently returned iPod on top of another pile as a makeshift paperweight.

“That’s Bucky to you, pal,” Bucky said.

“You mortals amuse me,” Thor said, a teasing boast in his voice. “What with your nicknames and such.”

“Do you not have nicknames in space?” Darcy asked.

“Stop assuming I’m mortal,” Bucky countered. “Despite the universe’s best efforts, I haven’t died. Not even once.”

“You don’t have my permission to die,” Darcy reminded him.

“That is also true,” Bucky agreed. “Which begs the question - does that mean the universe fears you?”

“A healthy fear of the little Valkyrie would serve the universe well,” Thor said.

Darcy half laughed, half sighed. “Still not a Valkyrie, Thor.” They’d had this conversation over and over, but Thor was insistent. It was a little adorable, really.

“Are we sure?” Jane replied. “Have we tested it?”

“Have we tested...what?” Darcy asked. With Jane, it was always good to double check she was participating in the _current_ conversation and not blurting out a question regarding whatever else was going through her mind at the moment.

“Whether or not you’re a Valkyrie.”

Thor’s eyes lit up at the question and Darcy was immediately alarmed. She’d read those Norse mythology chapters in her Ancient Religions class. She knew what was up. Or at least what humans had assumed was up. It was all the same really, at least when it came to afterlives.

As for anything else...

What were the chances Valkyries just had pillow fights or baked cookies? 60-40? 

“And how would you propose testing that?” Bucky asked, his voice wary. Darcy thanked whatever lucky stars might be shining on her that Bucky understood her so well.

Before Jane or Thor could answer, the walls shook with another bone-rattling boom. Darcy threw her hands over her ears, trying in vain to escape the noise. After a few moments, it died down and the room was silent again.

“Expecting friends?” Darcy asked Thor.

Thor narrowed his eyes, looking outside, watching for trouble. Bucky quickly got up and escaped into what was once the car dealership’s office, and was now their tiny apartment.

The doors exploded inward, knocking Jane and Thor to the ground and blasting all of Darcy’s carefully organized work all over the room.

Someone was going to pay for that.

A large figure with purple skin and red eyes strode into the room. He took no heed of the others, dropping to one knee in front of Darcy. Mjolnir whipped past her vision as Thor called the hammer to him. 

“Who are you?” Thor demanded. “What business have you here?”

“My Mistress Death,” the intruder began, ignoring Thor. “I come to you now, with my plan to prove to you once and for all that I belong only to you.”

“Uhhhhh. What?” Darcy said.

He raised his eyes to her. “You asked for proof. I am here now, prepared to do what I must to gain your affection.”

Darcy glanced at Thor in panic. Thor raised the hammer, ready to strike.

“And...what’s the plan?” Darcy asked.

“I will annihilate...everything. The entire universe. As an offering to you, my lady.”

“Nope. Don’t like that,” Darcy replied. “Look buddy, I think you have this all wrong. I’m not Mistress Death. There _isn’t_ a Mistress Death. I’m just a reaper. Sort of. Long story.”

“And possibly a Valkyrie,” Jane supplied, ever helpful.

Darcy glared at her, then looked back at the intruder.

“You’ve held many titles over the eons,” he said. “What you call yourself now matters little. I offer the deaths of all living things in this universe and any other, to prove myself worthy of your affection.”

“She’s taken.”

And with that, the intruder’s head disappeared.

Darcy whipped around to find Bucky holding the most ridiculously large gun she’d ever seen in her entire life.

“Not to be a caveman about it, but I’m not givin’ you up without a fight,” Bucky said, as though Darcy would take umbrage with his phrasing at a time like this. She scrambled out of her seat and ran to him, plowing into him at speed and wrapping herself around him. He carefully dropped the gun to better support her, and she wrapped herself around him a little tighter. He could just deal with a Darcy-sized lump attached to his torso for a while - she had zero intentions of letting go.

He held on just as tightly as he looked to Thor. “Who the hell was that guy?”

Thor nudged the remains with his boot. “Thanos,” he spat. “The Mad Titan. I had heard rumors that he had been plotting against the universe again, but to what end no one seemed to know.” He looked up at Bucky with a grin. “Good job going for the head. You have done the universe a great service today!”

“Great,” Bucky replied, his tone dry as the desert outside. “Then I’m taking the rest of the day off to pry my cat off the ceiling. Someone call Steve, get his cleanup crew in here to deal with...all this.”

He carried Darcy back into their little room, murmuring soft, nonsensical words in her ear. He finally set her down on the bed and gently pulled at her limbs, encouraging her to disengage and untangle herself from him.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and quiet, comforting like a well-loved blanket.

“That guy wanted to kill everyone in the universe to get my attention,” Darcy said.

“Clearly he’d never met you - that amount of paperwork would only piss you off.”

Darcy started laughing, the sound punching out of her in short, hysterical bursts. In a few moments, those barks of laughter turned to sobs, and Darcy buried her face in Bucky’s neck. 

“I will never let anyone do anything like that, you know that right?” Bucky whispered. 

Darcy inhaled shakily and nodded, not lifting her head.

Bucky stroked her hair. “You remember, way back, back in that labor camp. You told me that you’d used your power to protect me. Then, later, after HYDRA, you tried to use your power to protect me again. What was it you thought?”

Darcy remembered. “Once to save you from death. Once to save you from something worse than death,” she whispered.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah. That goes both ways.”

Alpine chose that moment to jump out from wherever he’d hidden during the chaos and burrowed into Darcy’s lap. She looked down at him, her smile watery. She felt her nerves return somewhere closer to Earth as she pet him. 

“And Al,” Bucky said. “He’s not going to let anything happen to you either. We’re a family, us three. We protect each other.”

“And Jane and Thor,” Darcy added. “And Steve.”

“Yep. They’re all family too.”

“And Phil and Maria and Bob.

“Yeah.”

“And Nat and Barton.”

Bucky smiled and Darcy melted a little at the sight. “That’s right. Darce, when we met? We were both so alone. And look at us now, yeah? What did Mrs. Rogers tell you?”

Darcy laughed a little. “As long as they stick together, they’ll be fine.”

“Wise woman, that Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky said. “It’s why they put her in charge.”

“I might have bullied them into it,” Darcy admitted.

Bucky didn’t acknowledge that. “You really think Mrs. Rogers would let that guy do what he was planning?”

Darcy’s smile felt a little more genuine. “No.” 

“Damn right,” Bucky said. “So. That’s the good news.”

“This implies that there’s bad news.”

“There is.”

“You know what. Great. Might as well. Bring it on.”

Bucky’s grin grew at Darcy’s attempt at their usual banter. “Big, purple, and stupid out there kinda messed up your research. We’re going to have to reorganize it again.”

“Oh no,” Darcy insisted. “Nope. No way. That guy was from space. Thor is also from space, therefore that guy and all his mess is Thor’s problem.”

Bucky laughed. “Okay. Ready to go back out there though? Steve will probably be here any minute.”

Darcy leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss. “Now I’m ready.” They went back out into the main room just as the clean up crew arrived.

“We’re here!” Steve called as he entered, Bob and Phil at his heels. “Sorry we’re late.”

Bucky glared at him. “Did you get stuck in traffic?”

“Hey, I’m still new at this okay?”

Darcy grinned. “You flipped the coin too many times and ended up in Hoboken, didn’t you.”

Steve perked up. “That’s a common error?”

“Not even slightly.”

“Oh.”

“We got him sorted out,” Phil said. “Hi Darcy.”

“Hello. Why’d the dead guy want to wipe out the universe to get my attention?”

“Wild misinterpretation of how reapers and afterlives work,” Phil said. “Don’t worry - we’ll take it from here.”

“Uh huh,” Darcy said, exchanging wary glances with Bucky and Jane. “So I should add it to my list of things I’m going to need to research for the reaper library?”

Phil gave her a wan smile as Bob nodded emphatically behind him, making wild, affirmative gestures.

Darcy sighed. “Guess it's a good thing we’ve got long lives.”

Bucky took her hand and laced their fingers together. “And that we can spend them together.”

Darcy looked around at her little assembled, patchwork family, and thought about the members who weren’t in the room, but with her in spirit.

“Yeah,” she agreed. “Definitely better together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come on - you didn't really think I'd do a story about Darcy being Death and not include Thanos' weird obsession with her at some point, right? 😉
> 
> Thanks for joining me on this ride. This story has been a very long time in the making and it's really great to finally share it with you.
> 
> Come yell about superheroes with me. I'm seibelsays on Tumblr and just about anywhere else you can think of.
> 
> Until next time, may all your favorite bands stay together.  
> <3 seibelsays


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